


A Pair of Splendid Morons

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Fire-verse [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: But it gets resolved quick I promise, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Blogger Simon, M/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Trust, a tiny bit of angst, first time saying I love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: Me: Is a sucker for first time fics.Also me: "There aren't enough first time fics in this fandom."Also me, apparently: "You could write one."Me again: "Yeah, I guess I could. You right, you right."BAZ“It’ll be fun!” he says. “It’ll be like Watford again, like we’re roommates, you know, except without all the contempt & trying to kill each other.”I realize I’ve been staring at his mouth this whole time. “Yes, well, without the Anathema there’ll be nothing to keep my hands off you.”Did...did I just say that?“Oh,” he says, mouth hanging open a bit (mouth breather). He closes it, pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. “Good, then.”SIMONI think of what Baz said, earlier. That he wants his hands all over me. (That feeling’s mutual too.) I’ve got a list of things I want to do to Baz, & I’ve crossed some of them off since we’ve been together. I’d like to cross off some more.The part of me that really wants this is starting to be a lot more demanding than the part that's scared shitless.Yes, there's sex. But there's also a lot of feelings, personal growth, & massive metaphorical trust falls.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, what better way to celebrate the announcement of Wayward Son's release date than with a first time Snowbaz fic? 
> 
> Here, have some fluffy love, why don't you?

**BAZ**

 

“Will you stay with me? The whole week, I mean.”

Simon Snow has just asked me to stay here with him in his flat, just the two of us, while Bunce visits with her boyfriend in America.

“It's okay if you don't want to,” he says. “It's just, you're always around anyway and, well. I thought it'd be nice, the two of us. You know. It's fine if you-,”

“ _Simon_ ,” I say. “Slow down, would you? You're going to hurt yourself. Of course I'll stay with you.” I'm going to stay here, in Simon Snow's flat,  _alone with him_ , for an entire week.

It's not like I've never slept over. I do that quite frequently, actually, but Bunce is almost always around. (She only has two and a half friends, and Simon and I are most of them. I'm still not sure whether it's me or Wellbelove who's half the friend.)

Simon doesn't like being left alone, especially after the fiasco with the Mage and the Humdrum and his goatherd friend. I won't leave him here alone, not when there's a clear solution. That week'll be the last before uni starts. It’ll be nice to spend time with him without the stress of my coursework in the back of my mind.

He’s smiling at me, this goofy little love-drunk grin that’s become something of a mainstay recently. (Perhaps that’s just wishful thinking on my part.) It manages to be simultaneously moronic and endearing, and it’s like an electric shock to my cold, dead heart.

“It’ll be fun!” he says. “It’ll be like Watford again, like we’re roommates, you know, except without all the contempt and trying to kill each other.”

I realize I’ve been staring at his mouth this whole time. “Yes, well, without the Anathema there’ll be nothing to keep my hands off you.”  _Did...did I just_ say  _that?_

“Oh,” he says, mouth hanging open a bit (mouth breather). He closes it, pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Good, then.”

_What?!_

Snow -  _Simon_ \- and I haven't talked much about this, the eventual inevitability (I hope) that is the sexual part of our relationship.

The first time it happened (or rather, the first time I  _noticed_ ), it was late and we’d been kissing in his bed for  _a while._ We were lying on our sides when he rolled on top of me (the wings tend to get in his way; he sleeps on his stomach for the most part, these days).

And there it was, a tell-tale hardness against my thigh.

I do believe I was rendered stupid. Speechless, too, if my mouth hadn’t been occupied, because  _Crowley,_ that was Simon Snow’s cock against my leg. Simon Snow was hard  _for me._

I tried not to acknowledge it but my own gasp betrayed me.

He flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet and said, “Baz...you should know. I’ve not. I mean. I don’t. Um. I’m not... _experienced_.”

I  _knew_ things were a bit sticky with Wellbelove at the end, but to think that she and Simon had  _never_ …

“You mean you and Wellbelove never-,”

“ _No_! No, we didn’t. I mean, maybe I thought about it once or twice, but after that it sort of just went on the list of things I didn’t think about. It wasn’t a priority, you know.”

I remember thinking,  _Are you attracted to women_ at all  _, Snow_? But then I reasoned that it was probably some stupid chivalry thing. Maybe he didn’t want to have sex with her until he knew for sure that I’d lost, that he wouldn’t be dying any time soon.

Before we got together we spent years antagonizing each other, and although I  _do_ think all that frustration has an exciting potential for our sex life, we seem to have silently agreed that taking things slowly is probably a good idea.

There's also the fact that Simon didn't even realize he's attracted to men till he kissed me. That was a miniature sexual awakening in itself. I suppose I wanted to leave the decision of when to progress to the actual sex bit up to him, because if I'm being honest I've been ready to give everything to Simon for literal years.

“Good, then?” I repeat, and I think I’m hoping that he’ll elaborate but that proves to be wishful thinking.

He shrugs instead.

“Simon-,” I’m not sure what I’m going to say but I figure I’ll think of something. That’s when he says it.

“Baz, I love you.”

Simon has a knack for rendering me stupid and speechless, it seems. “Pardon?” is all I manage to get out as my brain is too focused on replaying what he’s just said over and over and over again.

“I mean, you said so a few months back. You said I fell in love. You were right, as per usual.”

Is he talking about that day I helped him and Bunce move into this place? That was a slip of the tongue, a quip.  _Wishful thinking._ He hadn’t said anything at the time. Obviously he’s attracted to me - he  _does_ keep snogging me - but I didn’t think he was actually  _in love with me._

I wonder, not for the first time, if this is actually my life or if I’ve borrowed time from someone else’s.

 _Say something,_ I think.  _Tell him you love him. Say_ something.

“ _What_?” I say.

Simon’s face is on fire. “Um. Well, anyway. It took me a while to figure it out, you know? There was so much going on with the Humdrum and the Mage and being Normal and not knowing if I’m gay and, well. I’ve been working through a lot, you know?” He’s rubbing at the back of his neck rather aggressively so I grab his hand and hold it. It’s the least I can do while I don’t have words. “There’s still a lot I don’t know. I don’t know how gay I am, but my therapist says it’s a spectrum so I guess the only thing that’s important is what I do know. And I know I love  _you_ , Baz.”

I don’t think my heart’s ever beat so fast.

“I, um. Penny told me about that spell you cast. Back at Christmas.” The hand I’m holding squeezes mine. “Well, she didn’t tell me till I told her I thought I was in love with you, so don’t be cross with her.”

I’m still just staring.

“On love’s light wings,” he says, softly, and of course there’s no  _actual_ magic in his words, but at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever felt something so magical as this moment.

I realize I’m turning into an absolute cliché and I’m not even mad about it.

“And, well, a lot’s changed since then. But you said you choose me anyway. And I believe you, so.” He breathes in, deep.

My faculties switch back on, it seems, because I say, “I do choose you.” And I step closer to him, grab his other hand so I’m holding them both in mine. “I’ll always choose you.” Our foreheads touch. I have to bend a bit to manage it, but I do. “I love you, too,” I say, and the words are stronger than any spell.


	2. Chapter 2

**SIMON**

 

“Nicks and Slick,  _finally_.”

I've just been telling Penny about Baz's visit this afternoon, how I told him I loved him. How he said he loved me back. How bloody _good_ it feels.

I leave out the bits about the snogging, mostly.

“What d'you mean, finally?”

“I mean  _finally_ you two morons got your shit together,” she says, eyes rolling behind her glasses. “I'm happy for you, Simon, I am. I didn't want to push. But it's been obvious how you feel about each other and the suspense was killing me.”

“How is it  _obvious_?”

“It should've been obvious from the beginning, Simon. He cast  **On love's light wings** , for Crowley's sake!”

“I didn't know that bit till you told me,” I point out. “And even if I did, that was  _before_.”

Her eyebrows quirk. “Before?”

“Yeah,” I say, and I can't help but look down at my trainers. “Before I lost my magic.”

She moves closer to me on the couch, rests a hand on my knee. “You know that doesn't matter, don't you?”

“I do now, yeah. He told me as much at his leavers ball, remember? It just...took a bit to sink in, is all.”

She leans into me like she does. I don't run hot like I used to, but it's an old habit. “Baz is arse over tit for you,” she says, then she's smiling at me. “Hm, and obviously the feeling's mutual. You're grinning like an idiot.”

I don’t say anything to that. She’s right and she knows it, anyway.

Instead I think of what Baz said, earlier. That he wants his hands all over me. (That feeling’s mutual too.) I’ve got a list of things I want to do to Baz, and I’ve crossed some of them off since we’ve been together. I’d like to cross off some more.

“What are you thinking?” Penny says.

There’s not much Penny and I keep from each other, but we don’t talk much about sex. I told her about that time with Baz, the first time he noticed I was hard while we were snogging. I mean, I didn’t go into  _that_ much detail, but I told her how he’d thought Agatha and I had slept together. Apparently she hadn’t realized we hadn’t, either, but she only seemed surprised for a moment before she said, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

So now she knows I want to sleep with Baz. I think she’s surprised we haven’t yet, either. But like I told him earlier, I’ve had a lot going on. And just because I  _want_ to have sex with him doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless.

The part of me that really wants this is starting to be a lot more demanding than the part that's scared shitless.

When I told Penny about me and Baz, she told me how she and Micah hadn’t done it yet, either. They’ve been together a while, but they’ve also got the whole long-distance bit to factor in as well. “Are you. Do you think you’ll sleep with Micah? When you go, I mean,” I say.

She looks a bit surprised, thinks a moment. “Yeah, I think so. We’ve been talking, you know.”

“Yeah,” I say.

Her eyebrows are creeping toward her hairline, her lips curling up in a smirk. “Are you going to sleep with Baz? When I go?”

I can feel myself flushing. “I think so, yeah.” And I realize that I  _do_ think so. “I’d like to. It’s just, well. I’m nervous.”

“That’s normal, Simon.” She leans into me further, somehow, her head resting against my shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I’m nervous, too.”

I turn my head to look at her. She smiles at me, small and comforting, takes my hand, squeezes it. I squeeze back.

We sit like that a while, silent but comfortable.

“Text me when you’re not a virgin anymore, would you?” Penny says. I can feel her smiling against my shoulder.

I let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all. My end note that I had on every chapter randomly disappeared so I'm adding it in here for any new readers out there. 💜
> 
> Actual conversation with my husband when I started writing The Fire in Us:
> 
> Me: So I’m writing a story.  
> Him: …...Is it fanfiction?  
> Me: ...Yeah  
> Him: …  
> Me: ...Not that kind of fanfiction!  
> Him: This is how it starts.
> 
> He right, he right.  
> PS come [visit me on Tumblr if that's your thang](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff)
> 
> PPS I have a Snowbaz playlist for this fic! Find that [here.](https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/4a5b48d4ae2540059eaaf3420b052c84sune?ref=dm_sh_aR1qYYUyrIzuiKfLoNNl1IGd9)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1

**SIMON**

 

I went to the butcher yesterday and bought a bunch of pig's blood for Baz so he doesn't have to worry about going out to hunt while he's here. The butcher thought I was making a fuckton of black pudding. I didn't tell him that my vampire boyfriend might need it to get hard.

That was Penny's idea. I hadn't even thought about it. (Well, I'd thought about not wanting Baz to worry about scrounging for rats on the streets of London. I’ve also thought about Baz getting hard. A lot. Just not in relation to the vampire thing. Penny's the one who pointed out he might actually need the blood to have sex. “The only time Baz's got a little color to him is after he's fed, Simon!”) I don't know if she's right but I'd rather be prepared.

I've also bought us a few bottles of wine. (I hope they're good; I've no idea what makes a good wine so I just asked the girl at the store what posh people drink.)

We've never had drinks at home before, just the two of us. Penny, Baz, and I have gone out to the pub a few times over the summer. It's alright but I have to be really careful of how much I drink, otherwise I'm a depressed mess the next day. (My therapist says I might be prone to sadness because of my  _trauma._ I don't know whether she's right or not.)

Anyway, I thought maybe getting a little wine-drunk would help us relax, maybe push things in the right direction. (It's just now occurring to me that we probably shouldn't be drunk when we lose our virginities. One glass, then.)

I've been baking all day today; the flat smells of scones. (I've been trying to replicate Cook Pritchard's recipe and I think I've just about got it.) I do a lot of cooking these days, actually. It helps me relax. My therapist calls it  _occupational therapy._ I call it a hobby. (I'm thinking of starting a food blog, but I'm nervous about it so I haven't yet.)

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It can't be Penny, not yet. It's a long flight to Chicago.

 **Baz (4:36 pm):** I'm downstairs, Snow. Could use a hand.

I head downstairs to find Baz leaning into the backseat of his car. He's giving me such a lovely view of his arse that I'm a little disappointed when he re-emerges, trunk in hand. (Baz wears jeans all the time now that we're not in school. Baz's arse in jeans is one of my favorite things. I marvel again at how  _not straight_ I am. Who knew.)

“You moving in?” I ask as he hands me the trunk. (He keeps some things here at my flat, a toothbrush, some spare clothes. Obviously not enough to get him by for a week, the toff.)

He's got an overnight bag now, too, and a bunch of button-up shirts on hangers. “Let's get you back upstairs,” he says, locking the car. “Your wings are starting to show.”

 

**BAZ**

 

The flat smells wonderful.

“Scones again?” I ask. He’s told me that he’s considering starting a food blog. I really think he should (I’ve told him as much); his cooking has gone from good to impressive over the last few months.

“Yeah,” Simon says. “I think I might’ve finally cracked Cook Pritchard’s recipe.” He sets my trunk down by the front door.

“I could probably get you the recipe from her, you know.”

“I know, but the experimenting’s been half the fun.” His face lights up with that smile again. Crowley, I love him.

The timer on the oven rings just then, so he goes to the kitchen to check on his scones.

“I’m going to put my things away,” I say, and I head for his bedroom.

I hang the shirts I’ve brought in his wardrobe. (There’s plenty of room for my things. I’d love to take him shopping but I doubt he’d let me buy him anything.) My eyes glance at the door to make sure he’s still moving about in the kitchen, then I open up my overnight bag and pull out the bottle of lubricant and package of condoms I’ve brought with me. Both are open and ready to go. (The lube is an especially nice one.) I’m honestly not sure if we’ll  _need_ the condoms. (We’re both virgins but the idea of sexually-transmitted vampirism has occurred to me and even though I don’t  _think_ it works that way, I’d rather not find out.)(Also, as much as I want Simon inside me, I doubt we'll start with penetrative sex.)

I place both in the drawer of Simon’s bedside table. (I notice he hasn't picked up anything sex-related, or if he has, he isn't keeping it here. I wonder if I misread his intentions the other day, but then I remember that my boyfriend is a moron, so.)(An absolutely adorable, sexy moron.)

I’m setting up my toiletries in the bathroom when Simon appears in the doorway behind me. I catch his reflection in the mirror and jump a bit. (He’s still able to sneak up on me, sometimes, though I’m getting used to his new scent.)

I turn to face him. “Crowley, Sn-,” I start, but he cuts me off with his mouth. He gives me a few good kisses, a little slip of the tongue, then steps back.

“You hungry?” he asks.

Yes, but not for food. I know he’s hungry, though. (He always is.) “I could eat.”

“D’you want to go out or order in? We could pick something up and eat in the park, sit away from people, you know.” I do prefer eating at home, but I think he’d like to go out and the park sounds like a decent solution to the popped-fangs issue. (By Simon’s logic, one isn’t actually a vampire if he’s hidden in the trees.)

“The park sounds nice,” I say.

There’s that smile again, then his eyes widen just a bit. “Ooh, can we get vindaloo?”

“Only if you brush your teeth afterwards.”

 

**SIMON**

 

Baz casts  **These aren't the droids you're looking for** on my wings and tail before we leave. (He watched Star Wars with me a few weeks ago so he could learn the spell. I think he thought it was stupid but it was a nice gesture. He knows I like this spell better than  **There’s nothing to see here.** )

We’ve got a curry place and a park within walking distance, so we leave the car. Baz insists on paying for dinner (he’s picky with curry and wants the most expensive thing on the menu). We find a secluded place to sit in the park. The food’s cooled off a bit on our walk here, so Baz looks around for Normals before casting  **You're getting warmer** to heat it back up.

His fangs have popped. I think I’ve got an odd fascination with them, honestly. I know Baz hates them, but I think they’re cool and badass and lately I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be bitten by them. (I know he’d never do that, not in a million years. But the thought is...well. I don’t think I’d mind.)  

“What’re you staring at, Snow?”

There's no point in lying. “You,” I say, and shovel more vindaloo into my mouth. “Been staring at you for years, haven't I?”

I think he smiles, a bit. “Like what you see, then?”

“Mm,” I hum.

When we've finished our dinner, Baz says, “I ought to hunt before we head back.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you before. I bought you some blood from the butcher's. That way you don't have to be bothered to go hunting. It's pig; I hope that's okay.”

Baz is giving me that look. That look I used to think meant he was about to attack me but really just means he wants to give me a good snog. He gives himself a second - I think he's waiting for his fangs to retract - then he  _does_ give me a good snog, curry breath and all.

 

**BAZ**

 

“So,” Simon says once we’re back at the flat and sat on the couch. “What d’you want to do?”

I think,  _I want you to have your way with me._ I say, “What’s on Netflix?”

“Do you want to rewatch  _Game of Thrones_?” he asks. I’ve given him and Bunce the login to my HBO account.

“Do  _you_ want to rewatch  _Game of Thrones_?”

He shrugs. “That battle this series was wicked. Plus I bought us some wine, you know. I thought it’d be fun.” He’s bought wine. Perhaps I  _didn’t_ misread him the other day.

“I do enjoy watching Kit Harington,” I say. “Even if the show’s gone off the books.”

“No one  _cares,_ Baz.”

“Lots of people do,” I say, affronted. “But you’re right, the last few episodes this series  _were_ good.”

There’s that smile again. If he keeps doing that, I’m done for. He jumps up from the couch. “I’ll get the wine.”

I watch him go. “Just don’t overdo it, Snow. I don’t want you inconsolable tomorrow.” Alcohol does that to him sometimes if he has too much.

“Nah, I’ll be careful.” There’s clinking from the kitchen, pouring liquid, then he’s back with two glasses of red wine. He hands me a tumbler (he and Bunce must not have proper wine glasses) then clinks his against mine.

 

* * *

 

“Jon Snow  _is_ fit,” Simon says a few episodes and glasses of wine later. We’re longways on the couch, his back up against the arm, my back to his chest.

“Congratulations, you’ve got eyes,” I say. swirling what’s left of my wine around the glass before drinking it down.

“So’s Khaleesi-,”

“Her name’s Daenerys, you dolt,” I say. “And she’s very beautiful.”

“That’s the thing, though. She’s beautiful, but also fit. I think.” Snow goes silent for a second. “Baz, am I bisexual?”

“Dunno, Snow.  _Are_ you bisexual?”

“Dunno.” He starts giggling behind me. No more wine for him, I think. “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisexual. Bi. Sexxxual.”

I’m glad he’s figuring himself out, but I don’t know if now’s the best time to try and find clarity on the matter. I don’t say anything, though his laughter is making me smile a bit (against my better judgement).

“Baz?” he says.

“Hm?”

“ _You’re_ fit. Like. Very, very fit.” He emphasizes the “t,” then starts giggling again. Then I feel a hand on my cheek, turning my face to the side so he can reach my mouth.

The kiss is a little clumsy, at first. (I’m not sure what’s more to blame, the angle or the wine.) I turn a little so I’m on my side and he makes a little hum of approval that vibrates down my throat. He’s licking into my mouth, the slide of his tongue tasting like wine and toothpaste and heaven.

He runs a hand through my hair, pulls back. “Baz?” he breathes.

I think,  _Is this the moment?_ I say, “Yeah?”

“‘M drunk,” he says. “And sleepy.”

Not the moment, then.

“Let’s go to bed then, love,” I say. “We can watch the rest in the morning.”

 

**SIMON**

 

We’re a mismatched pair, Baz in his posh pajamas and me in my trackies and t-shirt. (I sleep in my pants when he’s not here. I wonder what he sleeps in when he’s alone. Probably the posh pajamas.)

I’d like to snog him some more, but I’m knackered. No wine tomorrow.

We cuddle up together in my bed. (It always surprises me, somehow, that this is how things’ve turned out between us.) Baz nudges my cheek with his nose. He wants me to kiss him. I turn my head, give him a lazy little snog.

I’m so tired.

“Baz,” I say against his mouth.

“Hm?” His eyes are closed; I think he’s tired, too.   

“Love you,” I say.

His lips quirk into a little smile. “Love you too, Simon.”

 

* * *

 

When I wake up in the morning, I’ve a text from Penelope.

 **Penny (2:46 am):** Did I beat you? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHEKHOV'S LUBE
> 
> Other pertinent information: Season 6 of GoT ended about two months before this story begins. :]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2

**SIMON**

 

** Simon (9:02 am):  ** ARE YOU SAYING WHAT I THINK YOURE SAYING

I Google “time in Chicago.” She's six hours behind us. There's no way she's up, especially with the jet lag.

I set my mobile back down on the bedside table and turn to face Baz. He’s still asleep, which means I can surprise him with breakfast if I move fast enough. I plant a kiss on his forehead and he makes a little sleepy noise of approval.

I made up some casings of black pudding yesterday before Baz got here (I used some of his pig’s blood), so I’m going to fry some of those up. We’ve got a bunch of scones, too. I wonder if I should make eggs and then decide the more food, the better.

I’ve got two cast iron skillets on the stove - one crackling with sausages and the other with a vegetable and cheese frittata - when I hear Baz rolling around in bed. There goes my element of surprise. I go to head him off.

“Hey,” I say from the doorway. “Where’re you going?”

He’s sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “To piss, Snow. Want to come?”

I lean against the doorframe, cross my arms. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Whatever you’re cooking smells good. Woke me up.” He walks over to me and kisses the mole on my neck. I’d like him to keep going but I’ve got food to mind.

“Do me a favor, will you?” I say.

“What’s that?”

“After you’ve had your piss, go back to bed.” I was really looking forward to the whole romantic breakfast-in-bed gesture. Probably he sees right through me now.

If he  _does_ see right through me, he doesn’t say so. “Alright,” he says, smiling, then heads for the bathroom.

When the food’s done, I plate it all on a serving tray: black pudding, frittata, scones, and an entire stick of butter. Baz’s right; it  _does_ smell good.

When I get to my room, Baz is sat up in bed, reading something on his mobile.

“What’re you reading?” I ask.

He doesn’t look up. “ _Les Misérables_ ,” he says. “Though I prefer a book in my hands. Ebooks just aren’t the same.” He sets his mobile down and looks over at me. “Have you brought me breakfast in bed?”

My mouth smiles of its own accord. “Yeah,” I say, walking over and setting the tray down next to him.

Baz, I think, is trying hard  _not_ to smile. (He really is soft underneath the walls he puts up for the world.) “Here, let’s sit on the floor. I don’t want to get crumbs in your bed.” He gets up, moves the tray to the floor and then sits cross-legged in front of it.

“You realize that you are literally a mage,” I say as I sit across from him. “You could magick the crumbs away.”

He doesn’t answer me, just starts buttering a scone and says, “Have you brought enough butter, Snow?” before biting into it with his fangs.

I do love butter.

So we eat sitting on the floor. It reminds me of when I was at his over Christmas, when we ate on the floor in his room (only with less gargoyles).

“Simon,” he says, mouth full of black pudding. “When are you going to start your blog?”

“Dunno,” I say. I don’t even know if I  _will_ start it. Nerves aren’t the only thing holding me off; I haven’t got the proper tools. A nice camera, a website, all that. I can’t afford them.

“You’ve made all this from scratch,” Baz says. “It’s very good, Snow.” His fangs slur his words a bit. (I think it’s cute.)

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’ve an affinity for blood?” I point my fork at his half-eaten black pudding.

Baz’s eyes roll. “No, Snow. I’m saying it because I have taste buds. You’ve got talent. You ought to share it, if you want.”

I shrug, look down at my plate. “I haven’t got any of the things I’d need. For a blog, I mean.”

“What would something like that require?”

“A good camera, for starters. A website to put the recipes on. A backdrop for the photos.” I shrug again. “Probably other stuff I’m not thinking of.”

Baz chews another bite, swallows. “After I’ve had a shower, I’m taking you shopping. We’ll get you what you need.”

“Baz,” I say, trying not to sound exasperated. “I can’t  _afford_ any of that stuff. A good camera costs at least 400 quid.”  

“ _I_ can afford it,” he says, and I’m about to argue when he says, “Before you argue, just listen. You’ve got the talent, this is something you want to do, something that makes you  _happy._ Let me buy you the bloody camera. It’ll be a gift. I  _want_ to give it to you. It’s not charity.”

I won’t win this one. There’s also a war going on in my brain: Do I  _attempt_ to argue with him or do I snog him senseless?

I take a deep breath and sigh. “Alright,” I say.

** BAZ **

I have a quick wank in the shower because watching Simon walk around the flat in his trackies sets me off. (Besides, if things do escalate tonight maybe this will help me not explode the second he touches me.) I can’t decide what I like best, the way they hug his arse or the outline of his cock. Eventually I decide I don’t have to choose; I just have to enjoy the view.  

Simon showers while I get ready. I wonder if he’s touching himself, too, and then immediately regret it because I’ve worked myself up again. I manage to get myself into my jeans and let the zipper placket calm my cock down.

Bloody hell, I need to get laid.

I think again of how Simon made me breakfast in bed this morning, how I had to keep myself from melting to a puddle at his feet. Terrible boyfriend, my arse.

Crowley, am I sick in love.

Simon emerges from the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt, rubbing at his hair with a towel. He looks bloody gorgeous, as per usual. I inadvertently sniff at the steam that’s wafting from the bathroom, because I’m disturbed. I catch a faint scent of come, and it isn’t mine.

I think of Possibelf, of Bunce, of  _anybody_ who isn’t Simon Snow and pray that I don’t get hard  _again._

“Ready?” he asks.

We head to the electronics store and Simon picks out a nice camera with the help of one of the clerks. (He tried to go for the cheapest option, but I convinced him to get the next best thing.) All I want is for him to use it, to be happy. I have to make him stop thanking me (I use my mouth).

Back at the flat, we buy him a domain and try to figure out how to set up the website. The basic setup is simple enough, but making it look decent is more of a challenge than I thought. We decide to work on it a bit every day while I’m here and end up finishing  _Game of Thrones_ and snogging a bit on the couch. All in all, a delightful way to spend a morning.

** SIMON **

Penny texts me back not too long after Baz and I have had lunch.

** Penny (1:24 pm):  ** If you think what I'm saying is that I've lost my virginity, then yes. :)

** Simon (1:25 pm):  ** !!!

** Simon (1:25 pm):  ** how’d it go

** Penny (1:28 pm):  ** It went about as well as expected. Hurt a little for me at first, but nothing terrible. That's normal. We went out to a nice dinner first. It sort of just happened when we were back at his. Would go again. ;)

** Simon (1:30 pm):  ** im happy for you

** Penny (1:31 pm):  ** What about you? How's it going with Baz?

** Simon (1:31 pm):  ** nothing yet. too much wine last night

** Penny (1:32 pm):  ** How're you feeling today? Alright?

** Simon (1:32 pm):  ** yeah im fine. just made me tired last night

** Penny (1:33 pm):  ** What're you boys up to today then?

** Simon (1:34 pm):  ** i made him breakfast in bed this morning. think he liked it. he took me out to the shops and bought me a camera so i could start the blog. im like...so torn between being annoyed that he spent so much money on me and wanting to snog his face off

** Penny (1:34 pm):  ** !!!!! That Basilton. Seriously, Simon, that’s lovely. He wants you to be happy. You love cooking and your food’s to die for. You’ll do great.

** Simon (1:35 pm):  ** thanks pen

** Penny (1:36 pm):  ** Sooo. Tonight. What’re you going to do?

** Simon (1:36 pm):  ** dunno. think ill make dinner and we can watch something on netflix or something

** Penny (1:37 pm):  ** Netflix and chill? ;)

** Simon (1:37 pm):  ** crowley HOPEFULLY. he's so bloody perfect. walking around here in his fucking jeans

** Penny (1:38 pm):  ** lol

** Penny (1:40 pm):  ** Well, keep me posted. Micah and I are going to grab breakfast. If all else fails, just tell Baz you want to fuck.

** Simon (1:40 pm):  ** penny!

** Penny (1:40 pm):  ** It’s a solution, Simon. Straight and to the point. Well, not so straight in your case. You get what I mean.

** Simon (1:41 pm):  ** yeah. tell micah I said hi

“I take it Bunce made it to Chicago in one piece?” Baz asks as I set down my mobile.

“Yeah. She’s good. I told her about the camera. She thinks it’s brilliant.  _I_ think it’s brilliant, Baz. I still don’t know how to thank-,”

He cuts me off by kissing me, which has been his strategy all day. I think maybe that’s why I keep thanking him.

** BAZ **

“Should we finish off the wine?” Simon asks. We’ve just finished a lovely dinner (the privilege of experiencing Simon’s cooking is payback enough for the camera, honestly).

“You felt alright today?” I ask, not for the first time. He’s seemed himself all day, nothing melancholy about him, but I want to be sure.

“Yeah. I don’t want to drink like last night. We’ve just got a little bit left in this bottle so might as well finish it off. About half a glass each.”

I think,  _Half a glass each is enough to get us in the mood but not pass out._ I say, “Sure, bring us a glass.”

“D’you want to watch a movie?” he says once he’s sat back on the couch. “Could see what’s on Netflix.”

I think,  _Is this a euphemism. Do you_ know  _the euphemism?_ I wonder at the fact that no one’s seemed to create a sex spell for  **Netflix and chill** yet.

I say, “Alright, why not?”

He scrolls aimlessly for a while. That’s the trap of Netflix; you can scroll and scroll forever.

“What’s  _Interview with the Vampire_?” he asks. He sounds oddly interested.

“Sounds self-explanatory,” I say. Honestly, I don’t care what we watch. I just want Simon. Preferably naked. “Put it on if you’d like.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want it to like, upset you or anything.”

“I’m sure I can manage. Besides, could be a good laugh, seeing what sort of tosh the Normals come up with about vampires.”  

He starts the movie. It’s ridiculous, honestly, but also amusing. (I thank Crowley again that coffins aren’t  _actually_ a requirement.) I do have to get up for some blood about a third of the way through.

“D’you think they’re fucking?” Simon asks when I come back. “Louis and Lestat, I mean.”

I’m still trying to reconcile the young, fit Tom Cruise on the screen with the tit he is in real life. “Oh, definitely. Your gaydar’s improving, Snow.” I say. “But I doubt we’ll get to see it. This movie was made before we were born; they weren’t so progressive back then.”

“Right,” he says.

** SIMON **

I think this movie is turning me on.

There's something incredibly sexual about the way the vampires are portrayed. Being Turned. I know it isn't realistic. Baz's told me about the pain, and I feel bad, sort of, for feeling the way I do right now.

I also don't feel bad. If I'm not mistaken, Baz seems to be enjoying the movie, too. Even the dark jokes about killing people. (Honestly, if I’d known about that I wouldn't have picked this.)

I just want to kiss him.

I just want to...

I turn to look at him. The light from the telly on his skin makes him look like some kind of god.  _Just say it. Just fucking say something. Man up, Snow._

I must be staring because he's looking at me now, too.

“Baz,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Snow?” He's got an eyebrow quirked. It makes me want to kiss him. (Among other things.)

“Um. D'you.” I take a deep breath, rest a hand on his knee. “D'you…” How the  _fuck_ do I word this? Fuck it. “D'you want to pause this and go to my room?”

His other eyebrow quirks. How can a person be cute and so bloody fit at the same time?

“Um,” I say. The half a glass of wine I had obviously did nothing to calm my nerves.

“Use your words, Snow,” he says.

“Fuck, Baz, okay. Look. I. I want to sleep with you. You know, if you're ready for that. Are you ready for that? It's okay if you're not ready but I just don't know how else to-,”

“Simon,” he says. “Let's go to your room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hereeeeeeeeee we go ;]


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sex™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated twice today, so make sure you read chapter 4 if you haven't already! :D

**BAZ**

 

Simon's room feels different, somehow, when we walk in.

He closes the door behind him. It's strangely intimate even though we were already alone.

He's leaning against the door, his hand still on the knob. He takes a deep breath but doesn't move toward me.

Best take things into my own hands, then.

I reach up to start unbuttoning my shirt, and  _that's_ when he moves to join me.

My hands are shaking so bad I can’t undo my bloody buttons. What was I thinking when I wore this shirt? That Simon Snow would undo the buttons one by one, push it from my shoulders, ravish my exposed skin with attention?

His hands catch mine. Our eyes meet for a moment, then he’s smiling at me and undoing my buttons, pushing my shirt from my shoulders.

He holds onto it for a second, looks around the room. I think,  _Is he looking for a hanger?_ My, but he knows me well.

I take it from him and drape it over his desk chair.

We haven’t spoken a word since we came in here.

Simon’s hands are warm as they run over my shoulders, down my arms. His fingers leave a trail of gooseflesh on my skin. Then he takes a step back and lifts his arms above his head.  _Oh_ , I think, and I swallow the lump that’s risen in my throat before sliding my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, pushing upwards, his skin warm against my fingers. My hands run up his sides, then his arms, and then the shirt is up and over his head. I lay it over top of mine on the chair.

He’s giving me that lopsided love-drunk grin again, the one I like so well. I am so far gone.

One of his hands holds mine while the other rubs my stomach in that way I like. (It feels even better like this.) His knuckles brush the fine trail of black hair that disappears down into my jeans, up and down, up and down, before he slides that hand around to my hip and grips me there.

He steps as close as he can and then he’s kissing me.

His lips are sliding against mine and it's so fucking good I think I might die. (Again.) We aren't even out of our trousers yet.

Crowley, he's just grabbed my arse.

I remember that I have hands and should be doing something with them. I run them up his chest. It's smooth, muscled. (Funny how it feels the same but so  _very different_ without a shirt on.) My right hand catches on a nipple and he actually  _moans_ into my mouth.

I didn't even do that on purpose.

I brush it with my thumb (on purpose this time) because  _oh_ , do I want to hear that noise again. And I do.

He steps even closer, somehow, his hands resting at the curve of my arse. His fingers hook into the belt loops at the back of my jeans and he pulls our hips flush and  _sweet Methuselah._

He stops sucking on my lower lip and says, “Is this okay?” His voice is low, breathy.  _Is this Simon Snow's sex voice_?

It's better than anything my mind's cooked up over the years.  _Is this okay?_ What a question. As if the feel of Simon Snow's hard cock against mine could ever  _not be okay._ I think of the wealth of sarcastic remarks at my disposal right now.

I say, “Mmph.”

He lets out a quick little breath; I think it's meant to be a laugh. “Hm,” he says, and his hands come up to cradle my face. They're shaking. “If I'd've known this was a proper way to shut you up, I would've done it years ago.”

I pull back so I can see him properly. “No you wouldn't, Snow.”

His trembling fingers are stroking my cheeks. He says, “Why's that, then?”

“You didn't love me years ago.”

“I don't know about that,” he says, one hand carding through my hair. ( _What_?!) “But it's better this way.” He moves in again and I close my eyes, but our lips don't touch. “And Baz,” he says against my mouth; it's barely a whisper. “Call me  _Simon_.”

I close the gap, small as it is. I'm holding his face as I kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. He's smiling against my mouth, and when I pull back he chases my lips and makes the smallest groan, like he's lost something. (He hasn't.)

“Take me to bed, Simon,” I say.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He's kissing me again, moving forward so I'm forced to step back. I'm expecting the mattress, but it still surprises me a little when it bumps the backs of my knees. They bend without my permission and I drop to sit on the bed, hopefully with grace.

I’m thinking about pushing myself backward so we can lie down, but Simon’s straddled me before I can move.

That’s fine, too.

I have to tilt my head back for him to kiss me properly. He's still holding my face, his tongue delving into my mouth like he can't get enough of the taste of me. He’s got the height advantage for once and I think he likes it.

I like it, too. (I won’t tell him so.)

My hands move up his thighs, trace the creases in his jeans at his hips. I wonder if he's actually comfortable, sat here like that, but I lose my train of thought when his hand slips around the back of my head and tugs at the hair at the nape of my neck.

He uses his hold on my hair to tilt my head to the side, grazing the skin beneath my ear with his teeth. (And  _I'm_ supposed to be the vampire in this relationship.)

“Let's lie down, yeah?” he says, right into my ear. He stands back up and I push myself back with my hands and then my heels. He wastes no time in climbing onto the bed, crawling up my body. Then he’s holding himself above me, forearms braced on either side of my head, and I think,  _This is my favorite place to be._

The length of his body presses into mine, and when the bare skin of his chest brushes mine, I think,  _No,_ this  _is my favorite place to be._

One of Simon’s hands traces the waistband of my jeans, his fingers slipping just inside. “Can I?” he asks. One part of my brain says _Fuck yes_ while the other says  _Crowley, Snow, it's 'May I?’, you dolt._ Still another part of me is rattling with nerves.

I say, “Mmph.” Fucking hell. I nod for clarity's sake.

His eyes widen a bit -  _did he expect me to say ‘no’?! -_ and then he nods back at me and starts fumbling with my belt buckle.

Simon Snow is about to take off my trousers. I’m living a charmed life.

He’s kissing me again, doing that thing with his chin, moving it up and down. I tilt my head to the side so he can move it some more, then feel a brief moment of pity for all the people in the world who will never experience Simon’s expert kisses.

Their loss.

My belt’s hanging open now. He pops the button on my jeans, stops kissing me. I open my eyes to see him looking down at me. He gives me a small little smile. The sound of my zipper coming undone threatens to echo around the room, it’s so bloody  _loud._

Simon plants a kiss on my forehead, says, “Alright?”

“Yeah,” I manage, and he grins at me before half-crawling, half-bouncing down my body.  _Oh_ , I think.  _This is the part where they actually come off._

Simon Snow is kneeling between my legs, and I believe it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He hooks his fingers in the loosened waistband of my jeans, gives me one last look. I lift my hips in answer.

My jeans are snug (I like them that way, not too loose, not too tight) and they catch at my thighs, then at my calves. And then I’m lying on Simon Snow’s bed in just a pair of black trunks.

Simon, meanwhile, is stood at the foot of the bed, my jeans in hand, staring.

** SIMON **

I think I’ve done pretty well so far, considering.

Baz and I never undressed in front of each other at Watford. Looking at him now, I think I probably would’ve realized things a lot sooner if we had. He’s all graceful limbs, lean and muscular from playing footie, and I just...

He’s not even naked yet.

He lifts himself so that he’s on his knees, shuffling over to where I’m stood at the edge of the bed. “Simon,” he says softly, then he takes his jeans from my hand and drops them to the floor. Apparently Baz’s okay with some disorder when he’s turned on.

He pulls me closer by my belt loops, and I feel that even though I’m looking down at him (for once, and not by much, honestly) he’s the one in control here, somehow. He pops the button on my jeans, and I think he’s going to take them off (they aren’t fitted like his; once the zipper’s down, they’ll drop), but instead he dips his head and licks my nipple.

I moan because I can’t bloody help it. (On the list of things I’ve discovered today: I have sensitive nipples and also: The list of things I want to do to Baz has grown exponentially, somehow.)

Baz plants a trail of kisses on my chest until he reaches my other nipple, then he licks that one too and grazes it with his teeth and I just really want out of my trousers at this point.

“Baz,” I say, and I sort of lean my pelvis toward him. (I’m reminded of Gareth and his magic belt buckle. I really don’t want to think of Gareth just now.)

He undoes my zipper, smooths his hands over my arse (that’s nice), and my jeans drop. I step out of them, my tail flicking back and forth to free itself, and nudge them away with my foot.

Baz’s fingers slip just inside the waistband of my boxers. His hands are pressed into the dimples above my arse and he’s pressing me towards him, moving himself closer, then his mouth’s on my nipple again and  _Crowley_ , that feels good. My head tilts back and I moan at the ceiling. I think,  _I want Baz to make sounds like that_.

I’m running over my list of things I want to do to him in my head, wondering which would be most likely to make him moan, when we both press ourselves forward and  _fuck._ The hard length of his cock is pressing against mine through our pants.

Baz  _moaned. If he touches me now,_ I think,  _I’m going to come._ I’m not even back in bed with him yet.

His head is resting on my shoulder, his breath coming fast against my neck. “ _Simon_ ,” he says.

“Yeah.” I say, and I’m not sure it’s a question.

“Come  _here_.” He backs away so that he can lie back down. I follow. His legs part for me and I slot myself between them.

Well, we’ve gotten this far. “Baz,” I say into his neck. My hands are shaking again, but I manage to run one down his side and hook my fingers in the waistband of his pants. I want to see him naked, and at the same time I’m afraid to see him naked. I hear Penny’s voice in my head saying,  _That’s normal, Simon_ , which is comforting but at the same time I don’t want to think about Penny right now.

“Baz,” I say again, my voice trembling slightly. “D’you. Do you want me to take these off?” I lift my head so I can see his face.

He’s flushed with arousal. (It’s a good thing I bought all that pig’s blood.) I think he’s nervous, too. He draws in a shaky breath, then he’s nodding at me.

_ It’s just a cock _ , I think.  _Baz’s cock. You love Baz._ I love Baz.

“I love you,” I say.

He smiles, just a little. (If you didn’t know him, you’d miss it.) “I love you too, Simon.”

“Lift your hips again, would you?” I say, and he does.

** BAZ **

This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt in my life.

It feels more vulnerable than facing the dragon last year, when any moment I could’ve gone up in flames. Being trapped in that coffin didn’t even feel so vulnerable as this.

_ This  _ is what it feels like to be naked with Simon Snow. Well, not just yet.

“Snow,” I say. His eyes stop roaming my body and snap back up to mine. “Yours as well.”

He grins at me. “You called me Simon before,” he says.

“No, I didn’t,” I say, even though I bloody well know I did not even two minutes ago. The banter is familiar territory, something grounding while we navigate the newness of  _this._

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and his tone is reverent.  _When am I going to wake up from this dream? No, I hope I never do._

“Shut up and take off your pants,” I say. Probably I should’ve said something nice but I revert to snark when I’m nervous.

He’s still grinning at me. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. Then he flops back onto his back and says, “You do it.”

I prop myself up on an elbow and look down at him.  _This is it_ , I think.  _No going back now._

I roll over and hold myself up on all fours above him. I make him reach up for my mouth, and he does. He  _does._ I think,  _I’d cross every line for you, Simon Snow._

My pulse is racing, and so is his. I can feel his blood thrumming in his veins.  _Merlin_ , I want him.

I dip my head, nipping at the sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise there. Then I’m kissing down his body, right at his core. I use the map of moles on his skin as a guide, licking between his pecs, down the line of his stomach, until I feel the trail of soft hair on his belly brush my chin. He’s propped himself up on his elbows to watch, lips parted slightly (mouth breather).

“ _Baz_ ,” he says.

I run my thumb along the line of his waistband; his cock jumps beneath the fabric of his boxers. His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I suppose I’d have blushed if  _my_ cock had jumped in  _his_ face.

As it happens, this is obviously the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me and I intend to make it worth his while. ( _This_ is the erotic gropefest I’ve always imagined, only better, because Simon Snow loves me and I never could’ve thought that one up on my own.) I wonder how fast he would come if I took his cock in my mouth. (It’d probably be over far too soon if he did that to me.)

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about giving Simon a blowjob. I’ve wondered if I’d be able to, with all that blood concentrated in one place. But I won’t bite. I won’t hurt him. I  _won’t._

I nuzzle into his crotch, breathe him in, then I’m mouthing at the line of his cock through his pants. I’d wonder if I’m doing this properly, but Simon’s making these lovely little noises so I figure I’m doing just fine.

“ _Baz_ ,” he says again, and lifts his hips.

Ah, right.

My hands squeeze at his arse on their own accord (it’s a lovely arse, firm) before I hook my fingers into his waistband and pull.

_ Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah. _

I'm naked with Simon Snow. In his bed. And we're  _in love._

I suppress my giggle of disbelief because the last thing to do when you've seen a bloke's cock for the first time is laugh at it.

There’s absolutely nothing laughable about Simon Snow’s cock.

I think of all the things I want to do to it; all the things I want it to do  _to me._ Crowley.

I let out a shaky breath against his thigh. He’s got a mole there so I kiss it, give it a lick. His blood is singing beneath his skin.

“Simon,” I say, meeting his eyes. (He’s still staring.) “Do you trust me?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and he nods vigorously. Apparently I’ve finally rendered  _him_ speechless.

“Right,” I say, kissing the mole on his thigh again. He’s got another, a little further up, so I kiss that one too, and then I’m eye-level with his cock and  _it’s now or never, Basilton._

My hands grip his hips and I feel him shiver under my touch.

“Are you-,” he starts, but I cut him off by licking him from base to tip with the flat of my tongue. I plant an open-mouthed kiss at the head before taking him into my mouth. (It occurs to me that I have no idea how to give a proper blowjob, but  _fuck_ am I ready to learn.)

“Oh,  _fuck_ ,” I hear, and I immediately pull off.

“You alright?” I ask. I run my tongue over my incisors to make sure my fangs haven’t popped.

“ _What_? Yeah,  _please do that again_ ,” he says. Oh.

I grip the base of his cock with the same amount of pressure I’d use on myself. “Yeah, okay,” I say, and then I’m lowering my mouth onto him again and he’s gasping up above me and  _Crowley._

I try a few things I think might be good, swirling my tongue, sucking, bobbing my head a little. It’s honestly difficult to do all three at once but Simon’s groaning and whimpering and gasping and I can’t stop. His fingers thread through my hair. (I have a fleeting thought that I’d like him to pull it and I shelve that information for later use.)

I reach up with my free hand to play with his nipple again but he grabs my hand and holds it against his chest instead. His hand is so warm. It’s more comforting than it has a right to be.

His grip on my hand tightens suddenly. “Baz, stop. Stop  _stop stop_ ,” he says. I pull off his cock with an undignified  _pop._

“Something wrong?” I ask. I feel like I need to wipe my mouth, like I’ve got saliva everywhere. My jaw’s a bit sore, too. (I don’t care.)

“Don’t wanna come yet,” he breathes. “C’mere,” and he tugs on my hand.

I crawl up his body and he pulls me down to kiss him. His wings have unfurled at some point, I notice. He’s delving his tongue into my mouth, tasting himself there, probably, his moans vibrating down my throat. I feel my cock twitch at the sound of it.

He stops kissing me to say, “D’you want me to do that t’you?”

My cock is  _throbbing._ “I don’t bloody care,” I say. “ _Just touch me._ ”

And with that he flips us over so that he’s on top of me, his wings huge and crimson around us.

** SIMON **

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I can’t believe I’m thinking at all after what Baz just did, honestly.

I wasn’t lying; I would’ve come if he hadn’t stopped. I’m not even sure if it was technically a  _good_ blowjob. (I think it was.)(I think I’d like to do it to him, too.)(There are  _so_ many things I’d like to do to Baz.)

For now, I start kissing him again because kissing Baz is on my list of favorite things and also because it feels so  _good._

I’m so far gone.

I hold his jaw with one hand and start moving the other down, down, down. His breath is shaky against my mouth and he’s holding onto my shoulders so tightly I wonder if he’s tapping into his super vampire strength. I rub his stomach the way he likes, a couple times, and then I carefully wrap my hand around his cock. We’re about the same size, and I like the feel of him in my hand. I’ve got him right where I want him, under my thumb like this.

Funny thing is, I think he’s got me right where he wants me, too.

He doesn’t moan but he arches up into my touch. I pull back to look at his face as I stroke him. He’s staring, speechless, and gorgeous.

I wonder,  _How the_ fuck  _did it take me so long to figure this out?_

My thumb rubs along the tip, and his breath catches as it spreads the bit of precome I find there.  _You’re close_ , I think.  _And I want to hear that moan again._

Oh. I’ve had an idea.

** BAZ **

Simon moves between my legs so that our hips are flush, then the hand he’s had around my cock moves to wrap around  _both_ of us, and I just about die.

** SIMON **

I could listen to Baz moan on repeat for the rest of my life.

** BAZ **

“Wait,” I say, somehow. He looks dumbfounded. “Lube,” I say. “Just. Drawer.” Fuck, where have my words gone?

He reaches into his bedside table drawer and finds the bottle of lubricant I put there when I got here yesterday. He snaps the cap. “How much?”

“Dunno,” I say.

He uses way too much but it doesn’t matter because our cocks are sliding together and his tongue’s in my mouth and  _any moment now I’m going to wake the fuck up._

I reach down and wrap my hand around his, the one that’s wrapped around us. His hand is so warm and it feels so  _good._ Heat’s coiling white-hot in my belly. We have to stop kissing because we’re moving too much, rocking erratically together and then -

_ “Baz,”  _ he says into my neck. “I’m gonna-,”

That does it. I hear myself saying, “Simon, Simon,  _Simon_ ,” like a prayer. My head tilts back, my back arches, and I’m coming so hard I think I’m going to die for the millionth time tonight. Simon actually  _growls_ , his hips stammering against mine, and I feel his come hot on my belly.

He lets go of our cocks and cradles my face, kissing me sweetly. It’s so lovely I almost don’t register that he’s spread a good amount of lube and come all over the side my face. Typical.  

We catch our breath, foreheads touching. He says, “Fucking hell.”

I say, “Mmph.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. First time I've ever written a sex scene, so hope I did well, lol. This took me TWO DAYS to write. Sheesh.
> 
> Anywho. I tried to make things realistic, I did. And then I fell prey to the trap of simultaneous orgasm. Ah, well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after.

**SIMON**

 

I think I expected to feel like a different bloke when I woke up this morning, but all I really feel is that I want to have sex with Baz again. Frequently.

He cleaned us up with magic last night, after, and then we fell into bed naked and went to sleep. Now, one of my wings is crushed beneath me because we've slept facing each other. (I usually sleep on my front to avoid the wing problem. It's annoying, really. I probably should talk to Dr Wellbelove about having them removed, but that might be...awkward.) One of Baz's long legs is hitched over my hip, my tail coiled around his ankle.

I ignore the wing for now. Instead, I move in closer, wrap an arm around him, tuck his head beneath my chin. His hair smells of cedar and bergamot and sex. I want him as close as possible. I want to keep him warm.

“Baz,” I say, softly. (I don't know if he's awake.) “Baz, I love you.”

The leg he's got draped over me tightens.

“Are you awake?” I ask.

His leg squeezes me again.

“D'you want to finish that movie?”

“Mm,” Baz's hum is heavy with sleep. “Don't care. Louis’ a whiny little bitch. Stay here.”

“I've got to move you a bit, love. I'm crushing one of my wings.”

“Mm,” he says.

“Roll on your back for me?” I say, and he does, reluctant with sleep. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

I roll on top of him, freeing my wing, and brush his hair from his face. I press my lips to his, lightly at first, but soon we're having a proper snog.

When I pull back, he's opened his eyes. “Morning,” I say.

“You've got morning breath,” he says.

“Yeah, well. So do you. Didn't hear you complaining a minute ago.”

“Mm.” His eyes close again. (I'm not sure if he's tired, wants me to kiss him, or both.)

I have a thought and a pleasant heat starts pooling in my belly. “D'you want a shower?” I ask against his ear.

“Mm. Later.”

“Together, I mean. I'd still like to suck you off, you know.”

_ That  _ gets him to open his eyes. “Before breakfast, Snow?”

“Yeah.” I smile at him. “Oh wait, d’you need blood first?”

“What?” He looks genuinely confused. “No. Is that. Did you buy me all that blood so I'd get hard?”

My face heats up a little. “Yeah. I mean, I didn't want you to have to worry about hunting either. But Penny thought-,”

His head lifts from the pillow, just a bit. “Have you and Bunce been discussing my cock?”

“Well it sounds weird when you put it like that but yeah, I guess.”

His head drops back down and he stares at the ceiling. Is he blushing? Maybe? “Simon-,”

“She's my best friend, Baz. I talked to her about. Well, about wanting to.”

“You got sex advice from Bunce.”

“Yeah, she said if all else fails just tell you I want to. Worked out alright, didn't it?”

“She’s always been at least half your brain, I suppose. But no. As far as I know, I don't need blood to get hard. I've still got my own blood. It just... I don't know. Maybe it would help? I don't know, Snow. I know fuck-all about vampires. All I know is that I've never needed to drink to have a wank.”

“Well that's convenient then, innit?” I say.

“About as convenient as it is for anyone else, I suppose.”

“So like, if I did this,” I kiss the skin under his ear and suck on his neck. (It's not like I'll leave a bruise. I still don't understand the logic of how he can get hard but not blush or get a hickey, but I'm not complaining.) His head's tilted to the side to give me a better angle. I kiss his neck a few more times, nip at his earlobe, then whisper, “Would that get you hard?” in his ear.

I hear him swallow.

** BAZ **

I have to spell Simon's wings so that we can both fit in the shower. A bit of a shame, that; I like them. (I'm disturbed.)

He doesn't waste any time in pushing me up against the shower wall once we're in. “Crowley, it's  _cold_ , Snow,” I say.

He turns the tap a little warmer. His hands are shaking again, not so much as last night but still noticeable. I'm a little nervous, too. It's only the second time we've done this, but the scariest bits have passed so mostly I'm just looking forward to what's about to happen.

“I meant the wall is cold.”

“Hm. Well, I don't mind the cold.” He shrugs and grins at me, just a little. I take that as my cue to flip us around, and then we're kissing.

“Simon,” I say, then I hoist him up so our mouths are level. (I suppose being a vampire has its advantages at times.) “Wrap your legs around me.”

“ _Crowley,_ Baz,” he says, then he does.

I press against him a little more so the wall can take some of his weight, then kiss the mole on the side of his neck. I stay there for a minute, sucking at his neck, kissing it, and I start thinking that I'd like to bite him there. Maybe I  _should_ drink before sex, just not for the reason Simon thought.

“Hey,” Simon breathes; he's got that sultry tone again. It makes my cock throb. “Hey, do I still get to suck you off?”

“Right now?” I ask, and I reach between us to stroke him a little, tease him.

“Yeah.” His breaths are coming ragged now. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to.” Is Simon Snow  _begging_ me to suck my cock? If this is a bloody dream, it's overstayed its welcome.

I set him back down. “Alright. We've got time, you know-,” But he's already dropped to his knees and honestly I don't know why I just tried to dissuade him.

He strokes up and down my thighs for a moment, staring at my cock - did he just  _lick his lips?_ \- then looks up at me.

“I hope I don't suck at this,” he says, lips quirking.

“Can you hear yourse - OKAY.” He's done what I did to him last night and cut me off by sticking my cock in his mouth. My head leans back against the wall of the shower. His mouth is so hot around me. “ _Simon_ ,” I say.

“Mm,” he hums, and the vibration around my cock is one of the most delicious things I've ever felt. He brings one hand up to hold me at the base, to stroke what he can't reach with his mouth. His other hand snakes around me to grab my arse.

_ Aleister _   _Crowley_.

He stops what he's doing for a moment, gives the head of my cock a few open-mouthed kisses. “Am I doing alright?” he asks.

He's such a moron. Such a sweet, sweet moron.

I say, “Mmph,” and then wonder if I'm doomed to be speechless during sex for the rest of our lives.

“I like how you taste,” he says, and licks me to prove it before taking me back in his mouth. I think _,_ How _is he a virgin?_  and then I remember what a bloody good kisser he is and this just seems an obvious extension of  _that_ particular skill.

Also I remember he's not a virgin, not anymore.

I hear myself say, “Your mouth was made for sucking cock, Snow,” and I'm immediately embarrassed with myself until I feel him moan around me.  _Alright, dirty talk is an option, apparently. Also, my voice is back._

The hand that had hold of my arse has gone; its absence sends a bit of a chill up my spine. I look down to see it moving between Simon’s thighs. My eyes roll up to the ceiling.  _He’s getting himself off while he’s sucking my cock._ This is absolutely insane. I have no choice but to watch, really.

I run a hand through his damp curls, give them a little tug, nothing too hard. He’s somehow moaning with abandon while simultaneously doing something absolutely debauched to my frenulum with his tongue. The visual mixed with the sensations is about to throw me over the edge.

“Simon,” I say, trying to warn him. My back is starting to lift off the shower wall. “ _Simon_ ,” I say again. He just keeps going, bobbing his head, taking me as deep as he can manage.  _For fuck’s sake._ “ _Simon, I’m going to-_ ,”

He doesn’t pull off, just moans around my cock. My grip in his hair tightens and then I’m pulsing into his mouth. I think I whimper; I’m not certain. Both of his hands are on my hips, now, and his mouth’s slowing down but hasn't stopped. “Fuck,” I say. I’ve closed my eyes, at some point, my head resting against the wall.

Simon pulls off of my cock, sits down with his back against the wall, and goes back to stroking himself. I drop down to the floor, move closer to him on my knees. He’s breathing heavy, staring at me with hooded eyes. I kiss him, slip my tongue into his mouth, the taste of my own come bitter.  _I can taste my come in Simon Snow’s mouth._

I can’t decide where I want my mouth when he comes.

I dip my head and start mouthing at one of his nipples.

“ _Jesus,_ Baz…” He’s reverted to swearing like a Normal. I take that as a good sign.

I roll the tip of his nipple between my teeth, suck on it, then look up at him. He’s watching me, watching his own hand between his legs. “Are you going to come for me?” I ask. (I almost don’t, then remind myself he liked what I said before.)

“Mm.” He nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. I reach down to fondle his balls, because I haven’t touched him there yet and that usually helps get me off.

“Are you close?” I ask.

He nods again.

I realize I want to taste him when he comes.

I move between his legs. “Move your hand,” I say. He seems surprised but he does and I take him into my mouth. I  _hum_ around him because it felt so good when he did it to me.

It doesn't take long after that.

He threads his fingers through my hair, pulling at it a little, and  _growls_ as he comes down my throat. I move my mouth on him a few more times as he rides out his orgasm and then move up to fold myself into his side. His arm wraps around me and squeezes gently.

Once he's caught his breath, he says, “Should we actually shower now?”

“Water's gone cold,” I say, just noticing that I'm covered in gooseflesh. 

“That,” he says, turning his head to look at me, “was bloody sexy. You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.”

My body goes through the motions of blushing but my face doesn't heat up. (I think I'll have some blood with breakfast.) “It wasn't...the things I said weren't...weird?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “No. By all means, talk to me that way any time.”

“Maybe after breakfast.”

He grins at me.

 

**SIMON**

 

When we finally get ourselves up for breakfast (leftovers from yesterday), I find my mobile on the coffee table where I left it last night.

 

**Penny (10:29 pm):** Status update? 😉

**Penny (10:54 pm):** Simon?

**Penny (11:12 pm):** Si?

**Penny (11:25 pm): 😏**

**Penny (1:03 am):** WELCOME 👏🏼 TO 👏🏼 THE 👏🏼 CLUB 👏🏼

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, more sex. It just sort of happened. *shrug*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, continued.

**SIMON**

 

**Simon (11:32 am):** BEST initiation into a club ever

**Simon (11:33 am):** i assume. never been in a club before

 

If Penny were here, she'd say I'm grinning like an idiot.

I look over at Baz, stood in the kitchen in a pair of my trackies and one of my t-shirts. The git didn't bring any comfortable clothes to sit around the flat in, and something tells me we won't be going anywhere today.

My clothes look good on him, but out of place. I like him like this.

Actually I'm finding I like him all ways, really. My clothes, his clothes, no clothes at all.

He's tied his hair back into a messy bun, too, probably because it didn't get a proper wash in the shower this morning. I wonder if he has any other practical reasons for it and feel myself blush, just a little.

He's warming up his pig's blood. He doesn't do it with magic; says he hasn't found the right amount of heat to use for it not to clot.

The view's nice from here, but I'd rather be closer to him so I get up. “Right behind you,” I say softly; I don't want to startle him. He can't smell me like he used to.

He tenses a bit; he doesn’t like me to watch him drink. It doesn’t matter to me, though; it’s just like food, something he needs.

I wrap my arms around his waist, rest my chin on his shoulder, and feel him relax into my touch.

He’s got his container of blood in a bowl of warm water; it looks like it’s about thawed. I think not being able to use magic on it frustrates him.

I brush a few stray hairs off his neck and kiss him there. That’s when I notice the scar.

It’s faint, barely noticeable, but unmistakably a bite.

This is why he wears his hair long, I realize.

I stroke the scar with my thumb. He flinches, at first, but doesn’t move away. I kiss him there.

“It’s alright,” I whisper in his ear, then kiss his scar again.

He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “It’s starting to be.”

“I like your hair like that,” I say, because I do. It’s roguish, unkempt, yet elegant. I don’t know how he manages it all at once.

“What, unwashed and smelling of come?”

“No, you twat. I mean I like how it looks. Also the come, on second thought. But that bit’s just for me.”

“The whole thing's just for you,” he says, turning the container of blood in the water. He sighs. “Anyone sees that bite, they'll know.”

“It's really not noticeable, not if you're standing at a proper distance. Not if you're not me.”

“Still.”

“Here,” I say, and move around him to grab a saucepan from the hanger above the stove. I take the container of blood from the lukewarm water and pour it into the pan.

“What're you doing, Snow? It's going to clot.”

I turn the burner on low. “You're the one telling me I'm such a good cook. It'll be faster this way. Grab me my sieve, would you? Bottom cabinet.”

I stir the blood with a wooden spoon, make sure the heat distributes evenly.

“This your first recipe, then?” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, pulling the pan off the burner, still stirring. “It's called 'My Vampire Boyfriend's Life Juice’. Grab yourself a glass. Now hold that above the sink for me, yeah?”

“We need to work on your naming skills if you want this blog to actually be successful,” he says.

“Yeah, well. I'll make the recipes, you can name them.” I pour the warm blood through the sieve and into his glass. It's barely clotted at all, but the sieve catches the bad bits. “There,” I say, taking the sieve from him and placing it in the sink next to the pan.

“Thank you,” he says, words slurred from his fangs.

“Yeah,” I say, and I kiss the corner of his mouth so he knows I'm not afraid, that it's  _okay_ to have fangs. That he's not a monster.

He’s not a monster. He’s just Baz.

* * *

 

I've gotten up to grab a scone to snack on when my mobile vibrates in my pocket.

 

**Penny (2:34 pm):** Have I caught you at a good time or are you shagging?

**Simon (2:36 pm):** pen, wtf

**Penny (2:37 pm):** What? You’re two bundles of testosterone crashing into each other. I figured it was a fair assumption.

**Simon (2:37 pm):** ...

**Simon (2:38 pm):** fine

**Simon (2:38 pm):** we're trying to figure out how to set up this website but its harder than you'd think. baz looks like he's about to yeet the computer across the flat

I look up, make sure Baz isn't watching me from where he's sat on the couch, and snap a photo to send to Penny.

 

**Penny (2:40 pm): 🤣🤣🤣**

**Penny (2:40 pm):** His hair looks nice like that.

**Simon (2:41 pm):** oh fuck i don't think you're supposed to see that. don't tell him

**Penny (2:41 pm):** 😏 Is that his sex hair or something?

**Penny (2:41 pm):** Wait, is Basil wearing your clothes? I don't think I've ever seen him in a t-shirt.

**Simon (2:42 pm):** not a sex thing ...a vampire thing. his scar's visible this way

**Penny (2:43 pm):** He really loves you, Simon. He must if he's willing to let you see. You know how he is.

 

I look over at Baz. He's got this puzzled look on his face, a rarity for him. It's adorable.

It makes me want to kiss him.

I _always_ want to kiss him.

 

**Simon (2:45 pm):** yeah

**Simon (2:45 pm):** look pen, can I text you later?

**Penny (2:46 pm): 😏😏😏**

**Simon (2:46 pm):** oh shut up

 

**BAZ**

 

I’m trying to figure out this infernal system but my mind keeps drifting back to Simon Snow.

Simon Snow's mouth.

Simon Snow's cock.

The way Simon Snow sounds when he moans, when he comes.

Simon Snow's moles and his curls and his blue eyes and that  _grin_.

Simon Snow buying me blood so I didn't have to be bothered to hunt. (And so I'd get hard, the imbecile.)

Simon Snow kissing the scar on my neck and telling me it's  _alright_ to be me. The fact that I believed him, almost. That I think I will, eventually.

The fact that I love him, and he's somehow in love with me, too.

The fact that he's stood in front of me, right now.

“Hey,” he says, dropping down next to me. “Thanks for helping me with all this.” He takes the laptop from me, sets it on the coffee table. “Time for a break, yeah?”

“It  _is_ more infuriating than one would think,” I say. I think,  _Do I tell him the things I'm thinking?_ “We'll get it done.”

He reaches over to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “How're you feeling? About all this?”

“ _This_?”

“Yeah. We're shagging, now.”

“Well spotted, Snow.”

“Well  _I'm_ feeling good about it.” He grabs my hand, plays with my fingers. “I like it. I mean, obviously. But it makes me feel...closer to you, somehow? And. And I like that, Baz. I want to be close to you.” He turns my hand in his so it's palm-up, traces the faint outline of the cross-shaped scar there. “I love you.”

I'm just watching him rub his thumb along that scar.

“Look, I know you put your walls up for the world and all, but you don't need to keep them up with me. You can let go, Baz. I'm not going anywhere.”

I look at him and he's just waiting. “I love you, too,” I say. “And I like being close to you.” I swallow. “It's just something I never thought I'd have. I don't know that I deserve you.”

“That's bollocks,” he says. “The deal is that we show up and choose each other every day. Be good to each other. That's how you deserve me. That's how I deserve you.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. “I'm sorry I burnt you with my cross. And broke your nose.”

“That was a long time ago, Simon.”

“Still sorry about it.”

I smile without my teeth. “Alright.”

“Well.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Are you sorry for anything?”

“Like what?”

“What about that time you pushed me down the stairs?”

I roll my eyes. “I did  _not_ push you down the stairs, Snow.”

“And still you deny it!” He throws his hands up in mock disbelief. “I've given you everything, and  _still_ you deny pushing me down the bloody stairs.” He stares at me. I'm not sure if he's daring me to argue or laugh.

I laugh.

He leans in and kisses me at the corner of my mouth. “Can I kiss you now?”

I quirk one eyebrow. “You  _may_.”

He smiles that lopsided smile, the one that'll surely be the end of me, and straddles me.

I close my eyes, expecting him to kiss me, but instead he starts in on my neck like he did this morning. “I like you in my clothes,” he says in my ear. He takes my hand, the one with the scar, and presses it against himself, rolls his hips. He's half-hard already. He nips at my earlobe, says, “I like it a lot.”

He slides a hand into the waistband of my trackies ( _his_ trackies), his knuckles brushing against my hipbone. “You aren't wearing any pants,” he points out, needlessly since I of course made the conscious decision  _not_ to put on a pair of trunks today.

“No,” I say. “Didn't think I'd need them.”

His fingers brush lower on my belly (not low enough). “I like that, too,” he says against my ear, then, “Grab my arse, would you?”

Who am I to argue?

* * *

 

“Do you think we're good at shagging? Like, objectively?” Simon asks, after.

We're still in bed, still naked. (“If Bunce finds out we shagged on the couch, I'll never hear the end of it.”) My hair's loose; I'm not sure what Simon's done with my elastic.

“Objectively?”

“Yeah. I mean, subjectively I'm pretty chuffed, right? But like, I don't know if there's room for improvement.”

“There's always room for improvement, Snow.” I say, turning on my side to face him. “But on a subjective level, I'm also extremely _chuffed._ ”

“So, like. We've got to practice to improve, yeah? If I'm being honest I could stay in this bed all bloody week with you.”

“Yes, well. I wouldn't say 'no’ to that.”

He smiles, strokes my jaw, and leans in to kiss me once, then twice. “I really,  _really_ like it when you talk while we do it. Just so you know.”

I'm simultaneously embarrassed and pleased with myself.

“I'm not saying I don't like it if you don't talk, just. It's a turn-on. I think maybe because you're starting to let loose, you know? And it's just for me. I don't know, Baz, I just like everything about you, really. About  _this._ It's so much better than fighting.”

I move into him, rest my head on his chest. He threads his fingers through my hair.

“D'you think there's a limit to how much we should fuck?” he says. “Like, can we hurt ourselves?”

I shake my head and smile despite myself. “You're an idiot,” I say.

We lie there a moment, his fingers running up and down my arm. I feel like I could easily have a nap. Maybe we'll stay here and sleep awhile. (I can't remember the last time I slept in the middle of the day. It sounds incredibly appealing.)

I can feel myself drifting when I hear Simon say, “Baz?”

“Hm?”

“What’re the condoms for?”

My heartbeat starts to pick up with the mortification of knowing that Simon doesn't want me that way, doesn't want to be inside me, and I should just stop making assumptions.

_ He said he's not going anywhere,  _ I think, but that doesn't make me any less embarrassed. I'm glad it's been awhile since I drank; otherwise my face would be on fire right now.

I've been silent too long. “Um,” I say.  _Damn it._

“I mean, I  _know_ what they're for. Just. I'm not sure why we'd need them? We can't get pregnant. We don't have any diseases.”

“Oh,” I say. It's not that he doesn't want me, it's that he hasn't thought this through. Typical. “ _You_ don't have a disease. I want to keep it that way.”

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon starts, but I cut him off.

“No. I've already told you that I don't know how vampirism works. I'm not taking any chances. Not with you.”

His arm around me squeezes. He says, “Love you too, you stubborn git.”

“Besides,” I say, “we don't  _have_ to do that. It's not a requirement.” That's not what I want, but he deserves the out.

“Don't you want to?” he asks, almost sounding rejected. I feel his head turned towards me, his breath in my hair.

“Of course I do.” Thank  _Crowley_ I can't blush right now. “We just haven't talked about it. I wasn't sure if you…”

“I told you. I like being close to you,” he says. “That's the closest two people can get. How d'you…” He seems to consider his words. “D'you know what you want? How to do it?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes, breathe him in. “I want you inside me.”

I feel his breath hitch, just a little. “Well, that's good then. I want to be inside you, too.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3, continued.

**SIMON**

 

**Penny (4:37 pm):** Any tips on giving good head?

**Simon (4:40 pm):** PENN6

**Simon (4:40 pm):** are you having me on

**Penny (4:40 pm):** Would you rather I ask Baz?

**Simon (4:41 pm):** ive literally done it twice

**Simon (4:41 pm):** dont think that makes me an expert

**Penny (4:42 pm):** Makes you twice the expert I am. Spill.

**Simon (4:42 pm):**...

**Simon (4:43 pm):** i cant believe we're having this conversation

**Penny (4:43 pm):** What's it like? Would he be miffed if I don't swallow?

**Simon (4:43 pm):** ffs

**Simon (4:44 pm):** i dunno pen. i don't think i'd care if it were me but baz seems to like it so

**Simon (4:44pm):** just

**Simon (4:45 pm):** crowley

**Simon (4:45 pm):** honestly he'll probably just be happy to have his dick in your mouth

**Simon (4:46 pm):** um

**Simon (4:47 pm):** hum around it

**Simon (4:47 pm):** i do this thing with my tongue on the underside that baz really likes

**Simon (4:50 pm):** Take him as deep as you can, Bunce, and don't neglect his balls.

**Simon (4:50 pm):** Also, Snow's being modest. He was born to suck cock.

**Penny (4:55 pm):** How red are you right now?

**Simon (4:55 pm):** i hate you

 

“I take it Bunce is having fun with her American lad,” Baz says.

I don't respond. My face has only just started to cool off. I was hoping we could wake up from our nap and shag again but I'm too embarrassed now.

“I  _do_ like that thing you do with your tongue, Simon Snow,” Baz says in what I  _think_ is meant to be an impression of Ygritte from  _Game of Thrones_.  

I sink into the mattress and throw the blanket over my head. I can feel the bed shake as Baz laughs.

He shifts next to me and soon he's under the blanket too. I don't look at him.

“Snow,” he says.

I drape my arm over my eyes. “You can tell your friends if you want. Have your revenge.”

“Something tells me Dev and Niall wouldn't appreciate advice on how to give a proper blowjob.”

“You never know.” I'm  _sort of_ looking at him now, out of the corner of my eye.

I feel him shrug. “I suppose you  _are_ the prime example.”

“Mm.” My tail’s flicking, moving the blanket up and down.

“Oh, stop wallowing, would you?” Baz says, rolling into me. “So Bunce knows we both like cock. No surprise there.”

“Thought you were embarrassed about it earlier.”

“I got over it.” He runs a hand over my belly. “You hungry? We could go get dinner. That way you don't have to cook. I'll buy.”

All this shagging  _is_ hungry work. “I could eat. Could order in, though. Wouldn't even have to put clothes on.”

“Don't be barbaric. We can pick something up, eat at the park again.” His hand's working its way lower, bit by bit, tracing my moles. “You fancy a shag now or after dinner?”

I look at him, finally. “Do I have to choose?”

Baz smiles.

** BAZ **

Simon brings his camera with us to dinner.

“I just got a great shot of your arse,” he says from behind me. “D’you mind if I save that? You know, for personal use.”

I look over my shoulder at him. (I don’t have enough blood in me to blush, but I  _do_ raise an eyebrow.) He lifts the camera and snaps another photo.

“I’m really glad you  _do_ show up in photos,” Simon says.  _I’m_ glad I had a proper shower before we left the flat; at least I look presentable. “Here, let’s take one together!”

“We’re in the middle of the footway, Snow,” I say. “We can take one at the park.”

He grabs me and holds the camera out in front of us anyway.

“ _Please_ , for the love of Crowley  _don’t drop it_ ,” I say. “This is what mobiles are for.”

“Oh, just smile, would you?”

When he shows me the photos later, there’s a lovely one of us smiling together, one of him smiling while I roll my eyes, the one of me looking over my shoulder, and the shot of my arse. (I must say these jeans were a good choice.)

* * *

 

“How fast do you think I could get you off?” Simon asks after we’ve eaten. “Here in the park, I mean?”

“Simon-,”

He shrugs. “Could be fun, couldn't it?”

I lean back on my forearms in the grass. “I've already come three times today. I can't make any promises. I'm not fifteen anymore.”

He stretches out on his belly beside me. “What, were you a master wanker at fifteen?”

I think of myself at fifteen, sixteen, furiously trying to get myself off with the hope that expelling enough come would negate my feelings for Simon Snow. “Might've been.”

He moves closer to me. “Really?”

I lie down then, look up at the clouds in the dusky sky. “I spent a decent amount of time getting myself off to thoughts of you. Thought maybe my feelings would go away if I tried hard enough.” I look over at Simon. His head’s turned towards me, resting on his forearms. “Probably I just made things harder for myself.”

He smiles at me. “No pun intended, then?” 

I huff a laugh. “No. Though I suppose the pun  _would_ be accurate. There was no escaping you.”

“Is that why you tried to steal my voice? Back at the end of fifth.”

I sigh. “In part. Though to be fair I had no idea what that recorder of Fiona's would do. She told me it'd get you out of the way. And, well. I had a hard enough time coming to terms with being gay. It was absolute torture being in love with  _you_.”

“Fiona’s a right piece of work,” Simon says. I don’t argue. “You could've said something, y'know.”

“You really think you wouldn't have laughed in my face? You probably would've thought it was some elaborate hoax to get you alone and kill you. Besides, you were with Wellbelove. For all I knew the two of you were off having boring hetero sex while I was lying awake in Mummers Tower with my cock in my hand thinking of  _you_.”

Simon shrugs, somehow, even though he’s lying down. “Honestly I was probably just trying to sneak more food from the kitchen. Or looking for you in the wrong places.”

“Right, well. That makes more sense  _now_.”

We lie there in silence for a while. I close my eyes and try to take my mind off that old life, how very sad I was.

“Baz?” Simon says.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad I didn’t have sex with Agatha. The thought’s just kind of...weird, now. I’m glad I waited for you.” He reaches out and moves a hand through my hair just as I open my eyes.

I take a breath. “I am too, Simon,” I say, and it’s so  _very_ true.

He half-leans, half-crawls over to kiss me, his hand on my jaw, then says, “So...would it be weird to try and get you off here?”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s a little bit too public, isn’t it?” Public sex has never occurred to me, especially not only two days into a sexual relationship. This way of being together is still so  _new_.

He shrugs. “Figured you could spell us invisible or something. You know,  **There’s nothing to see here _._** That spell has to be good for _something_.”

“Maybe another day,” I say. “This is all still just for you.”

We have a good long snog instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this one, but it is what it is. Working through a little writer's block at the moment. I definitely know where I want this to go; it's the getting there that's giving me trouble!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4

**BAZ**

 

“Do you remember how I told you I’m hopeless at dancing? That night at your leavers ball?” Simon asks.

We’re sat on the couch, drinking wine and watching  _Bake Off._ (I'm leaning back into him that way I like.) We’ve got proper wine glasses, now; we went out to the shops today and picked some out. (Simon let me buy them when I allowed him to choose an inexpensive set.)

I take a drink. “You told me  _Wellbelove_ said you were hopeless when she tried to teach you,” I say. Agatha Wellbelove is at the bottom of my list of people to think about during my week alone with Simon. (She and my father have been sparring for first place.)

“Yeah, well. She did. I was thinking, though. Maybe she just wasn’t a great teacher?”

From what I experienced at my leavers ball, I don’t think Simon has any natural rhythm, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps. What of it?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking-,”

“Have you? That’s impressive.”

He ignores me and continues, “Surely you Pitches and Grimms must have, I don’t know,  _parties_ and things with your other rich friends, right? And, well. Maybe there’s dancing. And if there’s dancing, maybe I should learn to dance proper from a better teacher. If, you know. Since we’re together, and maybe you’d bring me with you to your posh parties. I don’t want to embarrass you by being a hopeless dancer. I mean, I’m pretty sure I embarrassed Agatha by being a hopeless dancer. And I feel like maybe these things are important to you, so-,”

“Snow,” I say. This is all very sweet of him; I’m trying not to swoon. “As much as I love quality formalwear,  _posh parties_ aren’t exactly my scene. When we have them -  _if_ we have them - I make an appearance and then usually escape to play violin until everyone’s gone home.”

“So you don’t dance, then?”

“Not much anymore, no. Not much since my father stopped trying to match me with some girl or another.”

“Well, maybe you’d want to if I was there, and if I wasn’t hopeless at it.”

“Simon,” I say. “You’re not actually telling me you  _want_ to be around these people?”

“Sure I do, if it makes you happy. It’d probably stress me out at first, but I’d do it for you. If you wanted.”

I think,  _Maybe there_ will  _be cause for us to dance together, some day._ My stomach drops, just a little.

“You want me to teach you? You really do?”

“Yeah,” he says in my ear. I can smell the wine on his breath.

His head dips down and he kisses my neck, kisses my scar. It never feels the same as a kiss anywhere else. The skin there doesn't have full feeling; it's dull when I touch it myself. It feels  _alive_ when Simon touches it. The entire idea of him touching me there, kissing me there, is so intimate it's almost uncomfortable.

I keep letting him do it, though; keep letting him in.

“Fine, Snow,” I say. “I'll teach you the bloody waltz.”

 

**SIMON**

 

“Okay, but why do our arms have to be so high?” I ask. We’ve moved the coffee table out of the way to give us some space in the lounge. (Baz spelled my wings and tail so they don’t get in our way.)

“I don’t know, Snow; I didn’t invent the waltz,” Baz says.

I remember how we danced (more like swayed with our arms around each other, I guess) at his leavers ball. “Why’re we doing this one, then? Aren’t there other dances?”

“Because this one’s simple,” he says. “It’s easy enough to learn a box step.”

“Shouldn’t we have music?”

“We’ll do it without music first. It’ll be easier to learn the steps that way.” Baz sighs. “Do you want me to teach you or not?”

“Well, yeah-,”

“Then no more questions. I can’t hear myself think.” He looks down at our feet. “Move your feet a tad further apart. Like that. Right. Now, when I step forward with my left, you step back with your right.”

“Am I the girl in this scenario?”

Baz gives me  _a look._ “No, Snow, you’re the  _follow_. It might be easier to learn this way first. I’ll lead.”

I stare down at our feet, tighten my hand in his. I feel like a numpty, honestly, but I want to get this right for Baz.

“Ready?” Baz asks.

I don't look up. “Yeah, okay.”

“Alright, I'll count to three and then we'll do the first step. One. Two. Three.”

We step forward at the same time.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry,” I say. Maybe I  _am_ just hopeless at this.

“It's alright,” Baz says. “Step back with your right, remember? One. Two. Three.”

I get it right this time, though clumsily. It's like my brain and my feet are on different wavelengths.

“Better,” Baz says. “Let's do that again till it's comfortable for you.”

My hand's starting to sweat where he's holding it. “I feel like this'll take a long time, learning this way,” I say.

“The waltz only has three steps,” Baz says. “We'll get each step down, then put them together. Ready? One. Two. Three.”

We keep at it, doing the one step, resetting, doing the one step.

“D'you think I'm ready for step two?” I ask.

“Do  _you_?” Baz asks.

I shrug the best I can in my proper waltz stance. (Really my elbows just flare a bit.) “Yeah, let's try.”

We do the same thing but add the second step. I go the wrong way a few times, mix up step one and two a few more, but eventually I get that down too.

“Alright, last step,” Baz says. “So, step back with your right, then to the left with your left, then pull your right into your left.”

That bit’s easy enough, but I’m thrown for a loop when Baz tells me I’m going to step forward next.

“I thought I was the one stepping backward?”

“We switch off,” he says. “Let’s do the same thing, one step at a time. You’ll be fine.”

We do, and I am (eventually).

 

**BAZ**

 

I must concede that Snow is getting the hang of the waltz.

He’s not graceful by any means, but he’s got the steps down well enough.

“Should we try it with music?” he asks.

“If you’d like,” I say. I let go of his hand, his shoulder. It feels like a loss even though my hands are damp with his nervous sweat. I think,  _I could lick it off_ , and then I wipe them dry on my trackies (well, Simon’s trackies) instead. I pull my mobile out of the pocket and start looking for a song. “We’ll need something in ¾ time.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say. I keep scrolling and scrolling; picking a song is harder than I thought. “A lot of these are too fast to start. Hm. Ah, this might work.” It’s “I Won’t Give Up” by Jason Mraz. Might still be a tad fast, but I think we can manage. I hit play and set my mobile down on the television stand.

“This is pretty,” he says as the guitar intro plays.

“Alright, Snow,” I say, holding out my arms and gesturing with my hands. “Let’s see what you can do.” I take his hand in mine while he sets the other on my shoulder. “I’ll count, just like before. We step on each number. Here.” I listen to the music for a moment, wait for the beginning of the next measure. “One, two, three. One, two, three. Like that.”

“Bloody hell, that’s  _fast_ ,” Simon says.

“I believe in you.”

 

_When I look into your eyes_

_It’s like watching the night sky_

_Or a beautiful sunrise_

_There’s so much they hold_

 

Simon raises an eyebrow at me (it’s a good look on him). “This is... _romantic_ , innit?” He’s got this smug look I’d like to kiss right off. “I knew you were soft.”  

I roll my eyes. “Just bloody dance with me, Snow,” I say. “Ready? I’ll count to three twice. Start on the second ‘one.’”

“Right,” he says, and looks at our feet.

“One, two, three. One, two three.” We actually get off to a decent start. “Balls of your feet, remember?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s fast.”

 

_I won’t give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up_

 

“You’re doing well, though,” I say. I think,  _I’m waltzing with Simon Snow._

About halfway through, he finally looks up at me and smiles. It’s work not to melt at his clumsy feet.

 

_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_

_I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make_

_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use_

_the tools and gifts we've got yeah we got a lot at stake_

 

It’s a good thing we moved the furniture around. Simon’s gotten the hang of this enough that I’m able to move him about the room a bit.

 

_And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend_

_for us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn_

_We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in_

_I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not and who I am_

 

“I’m bloody doing it!” Simon says. “Calves are starting to hurt, though.”

I smile despite myself. “You’ll get used to it.”

 

_I won’t give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up_

 

Some part of me decides it’s a good idea to try and spin him, just for fun, and the next thing I know Simon’s on top of me on the floor.

“You alright?” he asks, and then we both burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” he says as we catch our breath. “My tail came loose at some point.”

I marvel again at the fact that my boyfriend has a  _tail_ , and that sets me off again. Simon stops me laughing with his mouth, lips moving on mine, then a little tongue.

When he pulls back, he says, “You're a good dancer.” He huffs a laugh against my mouth; I can almost taste the wine we had earlier. “Of course you bloody are.” He takes my wrists, holds them so my arms are pinned on the floor above my head. His lips brush my ear. “I get to lead, now.”

“By all means,” I say, and then he's kissing me.

It's a rough sort of kiss, different than the slow sweetness of the past few days. He needs a shave; the stubble on his chin is scratchy against my skin.

His left hand moves to hold both my wrists and his right pulls at my hair. (I pretend that I don't have the strength to effortlessly throw him off me.) He grinds into me, his cock half-hard, and I just want to touch him.  _Oh_ , I think,  _he thinks he’s in control here._ I’ll let him have his fun for now.

His grip on my wrists tightens as he licks into my mouth, tasting of wine and something irrefutably  _Simon_. He sticks his free hand unceremoniously into my trackies and wraps his hand around my cock, stroking me till I’m fully hard, then kisses me once, twice more before sitting up on his knees to pull at my trousers. He doesn’t even pull them all the way off, just leaves them around my knees while he rolls off me to pull and kick off his own. I’m about to take mine off myself when he rolls back on top of me and  _thrusts_ , his cock rubbing deliciously against mine.

He takes my arms again, pins them above my head, and crashes his mouth into mine, bites my bottom lip, then the top one. And still he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts against me. It feels better than it has a right to.

_This isn’t making love_ , I think.  _This is fucking._

I think,  _All it's ever really been between us is sexual tension._

“Here,” he says, taking a trail of spit with him as he sits up. “Don’t want your arse to get rug burn.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” I say as I finally divest myself of my trousers.

“Shut up,” he says, then he sits on the floor, legs out in front of him. “C’mere.”

I crawl on my knees until I’m straddling his lap. “Now my knees will get rug burn,” I say.

“No, sit on my legs,” he says.

It takes longer than I’d like to admit to get from my knees to a seated position in Simon’s lap, but I manage. His legs shift beneath me till he’s sat cross-legged; I wrap my own around him.

His left hand presses into the small of my back beneath my shirt (his shirt). It's warm and gentle against my skin. It makes me feel safe.

“We’re still half dressed,” I say as he starts stroking us both together.

“Don’t feel like fucking with my wings,” he says, and kisses my neck. (It's more accessible than my mouth right now.)

“We’ll get come all over our shirts.” He's velvety-smooth against me and my eyes drop closed as his frenulum rubs against mine. It's so _good._

“You’re a  _mage_ ,” he whispers in my ear. “And you’re wearing  _my_ shirt; what d’you care?”

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, just reaches up and starts in on my mouth again. He’s pushing at me, so I push back. My fingers tangle in his curls, pull his head further back so  _I_ can lick into  _his_ mouth. I want him to know who's in control here, now.

I reach down between us, cup his balls. He moans into my mouth and strokes faster, the hand on my back moving to squeeze my arse.

“You like that,” I say. It isn’t a question.

“It’s your hands,” he says. “They’re.  _Fuck_.” I think what he’s trying to say is that my hands have their own special friction. They're fire-holder’s hands. “D’you like it this way?” he asks.

_This way._ He keeps stroking and I tighten my legs around him. The friction without lube is so different, but quite good. I think of all the other things we could do this way and resist the urge to thrust at him.  

“I do. I like being in your lap like this.” I lick a line up his throat, taking his sweat since I can't have his blood. I want him to come.

“Can you imagine,” I say, mouthing at his ear a few times before I whisper, “sitting just like this, me riding your cock.” His breath comes fast against my shoulder. I say, “I'd ride you till you screamed.” He growls as he comes, and some actually lands at the corner of my mouth. I wait till he pulls his head back to look at me, mouth hanging open, eyes hooded, and then I lick it away.

He actually groans. “Yeah,” he says with a huff. “You win.”

I smirk at him, then let myself come.

 

**SIMON**

 

“Thanks for teaching me to dance,” I say. We’re lying on the floor, still dressed in just our shirts (my shirts), my head resting on Baz’s thigh.

“It’s only the waltz, Snow.”

“Yeah, but. Well, I’ve never been able to do any sort of dance before, have I? It’s kind of a big deal.” I wonder about the future, then. (It’s not something I think of too often; it gives me anxiety.) But for some reason I have this vision of Baz coming home from work with a stack of essays and horn-rimmed glasses (black ones, of course). (Can a vampire’s eyesight decline? I wonder. Baz probably doesn’t know, either.) “Have you ever thought about teaching?”

“No.”

I find a pair of trackies with my hand and lift my hips to pull them on. They’re the ones Baz was wearing. Same difference, I guess. (They’ll probably be off again in a few hours, anyway.) I look up at him the best I can from this angle. “Maybe you should. You’re good at it.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I teach you one thing and suddenly I’m professorial material.”

I sit up so I can look at him proper. “But I  _understood_ this time. I mean, it took a minute for my feet and my brain to agree with each other, but I still understood what I was supposed to do. I didn’t understand a bloody thing when Agatha tried to teach me. That’s what counts when you teach stuff.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks like maybe he’s thinking about what I’ve said. I find the other pair of trackies and hand them to him. “Oh, speaking of teaching. I forgot to tell you that Penny said thanks for the blowjob advice. All went well, apparently.” I’m getting used to the idea of talking to Penny about sex stuff, but it’s still kind of weird.

“Oh, wonderful,” Baz says as he pulls on his trousers. “Good to know our skill has crossed the pond.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, a responsible adult with about as much natural dancing skill as Simon Snow: *does the waltz to “I Won’t Give Up” by myself in my cubicle at work to make sure Simon can handle it; is astounded when I actually manage it*
> 
>  
> 
> [I Won't Give Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1-4u9W-bns)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous use of the word "fuck" ahead.
> 
> I'm not sorry about it.

**BAZ**

 

“Is there something we should be doing to...y'know. Stretch you out down there?”

We've just returned to the flat after a lovely walk to Starbucks, and Simon Snow is asking me how to properly prepare my arsehole for sex. This is un-bloody-believable.

Of course I've read up on this; one needs to be prepared for these situations (no pun intended). I wonder for a brief moment if Simon's read up, too, but he's Simon so it's unlikely.

I've  _tried_ fingering myself in the past, but something about feeling my own insides makes me uncomfortable. (I'm relatively squeamish, for a vampire.) A dildo was out of the question at home and at Watford; I can only imagine the awkward conversation had my father found it, if  _Simon_ had found it as he searched my things for evidence of my “plotting.”  _Crowley._

I suppose I could get one now if I wanted. Actually, come to think of it, I'm surprised Fiona's never gotten me one as a gag gift.

Simon’s watching me, waiting for an answer.

“Pardon?” I say.

“Like, I just feel like it's such a. Well, it'd be a tight fit, yeah? I can't imagine that'd feel good for you? I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't try it, like, if you told me you wanted to do that to me. But. Well. I don't want to hurt you.” There's a strange irony in hearing your once-sworn enemy tell you he doesn't want to hurt you,  _especially_ in relation to sex. It makes this whole thing seem so much more unreal.

“Well,” I say, “we take it slow.” I start to rip the cardboard wrapper from my cup, fiddle with it a bit. “Use the lube I brought, a lot of it. And it should feel good, if we do it right.”

“Should I try using my fingers? We could see how that goes. Try it out later.”

The reality of Simon putting anything at all up my arse is only now starting to truly register.

I try my best not to look alarmed. “Yeah, alright,” I say.

“Obviously I've never done this before so you might have to help me out.”

“It's a fairly straightforward idea, Snow.”

He smiles at me. “You're blushing.”

“Yes, I'm aware, thank you. Not every day I talk to someone about sticking his fingers up my arse.”

“Well, I'd hope not. Besides, it's just me.”

“ _Still_.” I use the nervous silence to take a long drink.

Simon watches me a moment, then says, “So how do I find your prostate, then?”

I suppose if we're going to have this conversation, it's better now than during. Maybe I don't need to say anything at all. I lift a hand and crook my index finger a few times.

Simon nods, just once. “Huh.”

“Simon,” I say. “We. Well. We don't have to do this bit yet, not if you don't want to.”

“Oh, I'm here for it. Just want to make sure I do it right. Don't want to embarrass myself.”

“That makes two of us, then,” I say. “But just so you know…you don't have to be embarrassed with me. We're. Well, we're in this together.”

“Yeah, well. As pretty as you are when you blush, I wish you wouldn't be embarrassed either.”

I look down at the shredded cup wrapper in my lap. “Right.”

Simon waits a beat, then says, “D'you want to have a go now?”

“Can I finish my bloody drink first? Crowley, Snow.” Simon finished his off on the walk home. I prefer to savor mine.

“You're right, sorry.” He sits back and starts playing around on his mobile. I just hope he isn't talking to Bunce about the intricacies of anal. I'm glad he's so enthusiastic about our sex life, but for the love of bloody  _Merlin_ …

I take the lid off my cup to find I've drunk too much to lick the cream. Pity.

“D'you,” Simon starts after a few moments. He's staring at his mobile, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth. “D'you think you'd like it if I licked you there?”

I just about spit out my drink. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“Yeah. I think I've fallen down a Google hole.” He looks up at me. “You've got cream on your nose.” He reaches out and swipes it away before I even register what he's said, then licks it from his finger.

I level him with a look. (I imagine I look more confident than I feel.) “You.  _You_ want to lick my arsehole.”

He shrugs. “Sure, if you want.”

I blink at him a few times, then take another drink. “Let's just.” I sigh. “Just start with fingers.”

 

**SIMON**

 

I lie in bed and wait for Baz. I can only imagine what he's doing in the shower (I decide not to).

My Google search has been properly educational. It's also expanded my list of things I want to do to Baz.

I wonder if he's looked any of this stuff up, but of course he has. He's  _Baz._

I wonder what he likes when he fingers himself.  _Has_ he fingered himself? Surely he has. Then again,  _I_ haven't so maybe he hasn't either.

I think about Watford, about all the nights we spent there. I wonder how many times Baz got himself off while I was sleeping, just in the next bed. I wonder what would've happened if he’d crawled in with me one night and kissed me.  _Would_ I have thought he was plotting? Maybe. I don't know. Probably.

I wonder what it'll feel like to touch him there. To be inside him.

I wonder if I've become a sex-crazed maniac or if I'm just a little amped up on testosterone. Or maybe I just love Baz and want to make him feel good.

Maybe it's all of the above.

Baz's been in the bathroom a while. I don't know exactly what he's doing but I'm not sure it's necessary. Maybe he's just a little self-conscious about the whole thing.

I guess I would be if I was about to be fingered. I guess we'll find out eventually.

I pick up our bottle of lube from the bedside table and turn it over to read the back. (I'm not sure what I'm expecting. Tips on how to properly finger my boyfriend, maybe.) (No such luck.)

We've used a bunch already. I wonder how much it cost. (Even the bottle looks expensive.) (Of course it was; Baz bought it.) Shouldn't there be some sort of lubricating spell? Surely some mage thought about this sort of thing. Maybe the existing spells aren't good enough, who knows. I'll let Baz be in charge of this stuff; he seems to know what's best. (I certainly don't.)

“Interesting read?” Baz asks from the doorway. He's stood there with a towel around his waist. He doesn't  _look_ like he's just showered; he must've spelled himself dry.

“Nah.” I set the bottle back down and smile at him. “Coming in? You can leave the towel.”

He doesn't move. I think he's nervous.

I get out of bed and walk over to him instead. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says. “I see you're ready to go.” (I've been waiting naked.)

“You alright?” I ask.

“I'm fine. Just...nervous.”

“We don't  _have_ to-,”

“It's not that, Simon. I'm  _just_ nervous. I'll be alright once we've started.”

I take his hand. “Relax, yeah? You need to relax or it won't work right.”

He snorts. “Google?”

I smile. “Yeah.” I stroke his sides and then hook my fingers in his towel. “Can I take this off?”

“You  _may_ ,” he says. (I think he thinks I don't know proper grammar. Really I just don't want to change the way I talk.)

I roll my eyes, undo the towel, and let it drop. “Here, come lie down. I'll suck you off. Heard I'm good at it.” I try to wink but I’m  _not_ good at that so I kind of just make a face that makes Baz raise his eyebrows at me. (He’s  _always_ raising his eyebrows at me.) “Just come on.”

I pull him over to the bed and have him sit on the edge, then I drop down to kneel between his legs. “I’ll go slow, yeah? Just tell me if you want me to stop.”  I drop my head to kiss the inside of one of his thighs; he smells of cedar and bergamot and  _Baz._

“Simon,” he says, softly.

I lift my head to look at him. His eyes are so grey; I think he’s even got little silver flecks in them. They’re pretty. “Yeah?”

“You’re not a terrible boyfriend.”

My lips quirk up at that and I kiss his thigh again. The truth is that it’s a lot easier being Baz’s boyfriend than it was to be Agatha’s. It’s not that I didn’t love Agatha; I think I did. She was a lovely person, but I think Penny was right. We weren’t right for each other.

I’m making my way up Baz’s thigh when I hear him say my name again. (I love it when he says my name.)

“Yeah?” I say.

“Will you come kiss me first?”

There’s a swell in my chest when he says it. (That never happened with Agatha, either.) “Yeah, love,” I say. He takes my hands and pulls me up. I straddle him just like I did the other night, the first time, then I take him by the back of his neck. His lips are soft against mine.

I press on his chest and he takes the hint to lie down, pulling me down with him. His hands are pressing into my back and it feels so nice I wish these stupid wings were gone so he’d be able to run his hands over me.

I don’t want to think about my wings right now. Or my tail. I just want to make Baz comfortable.

He’s hard now, so I take that as a good sign. (I am too.) I move my hips a little so he can feel me against him. I want him to know how _much_ I want him. He moans softly into my mouth and I moan back at him, louder. (I can’t help it; I’ve discovered that I’m the loud one when we fuck. I think Baz likes it.)

We rock into each other a few more times before I pull back and start moving back down. I hold on to his sides and kiss down the line of his belly until I’m back on the floor between his legs. Baz hasn’t sat back up. “Stay just like that,” I say, and I start to stroke him, just gently for now.

I bring up my list of things I want to do to Baz in my head, then I just go for it and lick at the seam between his balls. His hips jump a bit but he lets out what sounds like a good noise.

“Can you hold your hips still for me?” I ask.

“Mm. Surprised me.”

I keep stroking him with one hand and hold his hip with the other for good measure, then I run my tongue over that spot again. Baz shudders and runs his fingers through my hair. It always feels so good against my scalp. (No one but Baz has ever run their fingers through my hair before. I love it.)(I love  _him._ )

I stay here for a while, licking and kissing and sucking at the skin around his balls while Baz writhes beneath me. (It’s a strange texture, but I like it.) He’s nice and worked up, now; I’m getting some moans out of him (soft ones, but still) and I can feel a bit of precome leaking from his cock.

I give him one last lick, all the way from his balls to the tip of his cock, then I get up off my knees and crawl on top of him. He reaches up to kiss me before I even have a chance to dip my head for him.

“You ready?” I ask once he pulls back. He just nods.

I kiss him one more time before getting up to grab the lube. “Move back on the pillows, yeah? Get comfortable.”

“I’m not an invalid,” he says, but he moves back onto the pillows anyway. I crawl back onto the bed and set the lube at his feet.

“Relax,” I say. Probably I should’ve had the lube out and ready beforehand so we didn’t have to stop. I think he’s just nervous again.

He takes a breath and lets his legs fall open for me. I crawl up between them to kiss him and rub against him a little more. Keep him in the mood. We just snog for a few minutes, my hands holding his face. I wonder if I could finger him from up here, if that'd be more comfortable for him, but it'd be a bit of a reach for me.

I move to kiss his neck the way he likes and reach down to stroke his cock a little more. I spread his precome over the head and slide my thumb over the underside, right in that place that always drives him mad.

“Alright,” he breathes in my ear.

“Yeah?” I say in his.

I feel him nod.

I start making my way down, kissing down his chest. (I leave his nipples alone; he doesn't like them played with like I do.) He likes open-mouthed kisses on his belly, so I do that, then nip at one of his hip bones (the one closest to the lube).

I'm not entirely sure how best to go about this so I just take his cock in my mouth and reach for the bottle of lube with my hand. His precome is bitter on my tongue, but I sort of like it. (It makes me want to tell Baz that he's not that weird for needing a bodily fluid to survive, even if it is blood, not come.)

“Fuck,” he says (I've just run my tongue over that spot he likes.) I give the head of his cock a nice suck and then pull off to sit back on my heels. Baz shifts down towards me a bit, spreads his legs a little further apart. He watches as I snap the cap on the lube and pour some into my hand. I run my hands together like I've just put on lotion.

“Steady on!” Baz says. His eyes are huge.

He probably thinks I'm about to stick my entire hand up his arse.

“Shit, sorry. Dunno why I did that.” I grab the bottle again and spread a good amount over the fingers on my right hand instead, then kneel back between his legs.  

What's the best way to do this? Fuck it.

I kiss him where his thigh meets his hip, then cup his balls with my lubed-up hand. “Alright?”

“Mmph.”

I move my first two fingers to stroke the place right behind his balls and I kind of wish I'd waited to lube up my fingers. (I want to feel his skin on mine.) I guess there's always next time.

I keep stroking that spot. When I look up, Baz's eyes are closed. I reach up with my free hand so I can hold his, then I inch my right hand down until -

“ _Fuck_ ,” Baz breathes. He squeezes my hand, just a bit.

I'm still trying to find the best way to position my hand for this. I end up turning it to run my thumb over his opening a few more times. (We're going to need more lube.)

My thumb moves back and forth, back and forth. Baz is starting to make some lovely little noises. “Does that feel good?” I ask.

“Mm. Keep going.” If he's still nervous, I can't tell.

I wonder which finger would be best to use first. Index? I'll just use my index.

I grab the lube again and add a bunch to my hand. Baz  _did_ say to use a lot. I figure it can't hurt to have more than enough.

 

**BAZ**

 

I'm going to be spending a fair amount of money on lube in the near future if Simon keeps piling it on the way he does.

There are worse problems to have, I suppose.

Simon's gone back to stroking my arsehole which is so good I can't imagine how it'll feel when he's actually _inside_ me. My nerves have calmed quite a bit, given way to sensation. It also helps to know that this is turning Simon on. I can feel him rubbing himself against the mattress.

Simon Snow is turned on by playing with my arse. This whole fucking week's been an absolute trip.

He stops stroking and I feel his finger pressing against me. His fingers slide up toward my perineum and then he slips one back down and into me.

I take a sharp breath and feel myself clench around him. It doesn't hurt, and it certainly isn't his entire finger, but it's invasive even though I was ready for it.

“Relax,” Simon says. He holds his finger inside me and dips his head to lick at my balls again (a lovely new development).

My muscles relax as his tongue works on me, then he pulls his finger back slightly before sliding it in further. I close my eyes and sink back into Simon's pillows as his finger slips in and out of me.

There's a sudden jolt and I feel my hips stutter. Simon stops moving. “Did I find it already?” he asks.

“Might've done. Um. Move your finger up -  _fuck_.”

“Does it feel good, then? Is that a good ‘fuck’ or a bad ‘fuck’?”

I say, “Stick another finger in me.” He does, and I have to get used to it again, but  _fuck_ is it amazing when he brushes my prostate. I think this is the most I've moaned since we started fucking. My cock's hard as a bloody rock.

“D'you want another one?” Simon asks after a few minutes. I can barely fucking hear him.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” I say. I don't even have time to feel embarrassed about how fucking desperate I sound.

He slides another finger into me and I must be good and ready because I barely need to adjust. All I feel is the slide of Simon's fingers inside me and the movement of the mattress as Simon fucks himself against it. Then my cock's inside his mouth and I didn't know that sex could feel this fucking _good._

I bring myself up on my elbows to have a look at this and make sure it's actually fucking happening. My mouth's just hanging open; I imagine I look like a bloody simpleton but I don't fucking care.

Simon must feel me watching because he pulls off my cock to look at me, his fingers still pumping inside me. He replaces his mouth with his free hand and starts stroking me.

He's not great at the simultaneous movements; his left hand is clumsy on my cock and his fingers have slowed inside me but that's fine because my hips have started moving on their own accord.  _I'm fucking myself on Simon Snow's fingers._

“Fuck yes, love,” Simon breathes as I roll my hips, riding his hand. He quickens his strokes on my cock, tightens his grip. “You’re so bloody fit like this. Come. Come for me.”

I’ve never come so hard in my life. I can’t even make a noise; I just stare at Simon, mouth open and panting, as my body pulses. My head drops back onto the pillow as Simon pulls his fingers out of me and I just lie here, trying to catch my breath.

Simon's breathing hard, too. He lifts himself up on all fours and crawls up my body. (He actually slicks his right hand through the pool of come on my belly and I think for a moment that he's going to use it as lube on himself, but no. There's no rhyme or bloody reason to it.)(It's fucking hot, is what it is.)

He wipes his hand on the sheet before grabbing my face (he still spreads some come and lube onto my cheek but I don't care) and delving his tongue into my mouth. He kisses me so hard our teeth click together.

“You. You need to finish,” I say when he pulls back. I'm still trying to catch my breath, still shuddering.

“Nah,” he says. “I already came.”

“What?”

He kisses the corner of my mouth, then the other. “You were turning me on. I couldn't help it. That was fucking brilliant.”

“Yeah,” I say as he drops down on the bed next to me. “Yeah.”

 

**SIMON**

 

If this is how things are going to be from now on, I have no idea how I'll be able to last more than a minute inside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Google search history will never be the same.
> 
> I don't even know who I am anymore. 🤷🏻♀️


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not *completely* happy with this chapter, but it had to be done to move things along.
> 
> I actually started working on the next chapter before I wrote this one, so that's at least partly done. It'll be a long one, so bear with me while I crank that out!
> 
> Thanks for reading. <3

**SIMON**

 

**Simon (2:54 pm):** i have a weird question but i dont know who else to ask so

**Simon (2:55 pm):** do you know anything about how people become vampires?

**Penny (2:59 pm):** Is this a sex thing, Simon?

**Penny (3:00 pm):** Baz doesn’t want to bite you, does he?

**Simon (3:00 pm):** NO

**Simon (3:01 pm):** it’s just that he wants me to use a condom

**Simon (3:01 pm):** when we you know

**Simon (3:01 pm):** go all the way and all that

**Simon (3:02 pm):** he said he didn’t want to take any chances on infecting me

**Penny (3:02 pm):** Simon

**Penny (3:05 pm):** I understand the sentiment and all, and if that’s how he feels most comfortable you should definitely do it, but I really doubt a person could be Turned that way. Current research suggests that the venom needs to make it into the victim’s bloodstream, and even then no one knows if there’s a certain amount needed. Test subjects are hard to come by, you know. Anyway, as far as I know, Baz isn’t storing his venom in his testicles. Or up his arse.

**Simon (3:06 pm):**...

**Penny (3:06 pm):** Also, have you been using condoms for oral?

**Simon (3:07 pm):** what? no?

**Penny (3:07 pm):** Nicks and Slick, Baz is smarter than this.

**Simon (3:07 pm):** you’re freaking me out

**Penny (3:08 pm):** Sorry. It’s just, if he was concerned about vampirism being transmitted sexually, by that logic it could be passed through oral, too.

**Simon (3:09 pm):** …

**Simon (3:10 pm):** so what you’re telling me is that i’ve basically already proven that you cant become a vampire by fucking one

**Penny (3:10 pm):** Not necessarily. Some STIs require actual intercourse, I think. But still.

**Simon (3:11 pm):** pen. i have swallowed a LOT of come the last few days. a LOT

**Penny (3:12 pm):** I didn't need to know that but good for you I guess?

**Simon (3:13 pm):** how the fuck doesnt baz know about the venom thing?

**Penny (3:13 pm):** He probably does and was just trying to be cautious. You could ask him.

 

I  _knew_ it. Baz's been worrying over nothing. Now I just have to find a way to actually talk to him about it without him hating himself. Baz is the smartest bloke I know, so it's okay that he doesn't know  _everything._ Still, he'll probably feel terrible about the whole thing. He'll think he's been playing with fire and endangering my life or something, even if I do think the whole thing's a bit silly.

I'll have to think over how to bring this up. I don't want him to feel bad but he also needs to know.

“Well,” Baz says. We're sat on the couch working on my blog stuff again. “We're ready for launch whenever you're ready.”

I move closer to him on the couch so I can get a good look at the laptop.

“It looks so much better,” I say. It really does. It looks like a proper website and everything.

“This is just the preview. It won't go live till you're ready, but when you are,” he points to a button on the webpage, “you'll click that. Better get cooking, Snow.”

I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you. It's brilliant.” Crowley, I can't tell him right now; he's smiling. Smiling's one of my favorite ways to see him.

“We could take some nice photos of you, too,” he says. “Unless you don't want your face online yet.”

I consider that, the idea of so many people seeing me. It’s a little much to start. “Let's wait on that, at least for a while.”

“Fair enough.” He closes the laptop, sets it down on the coffee table, and stretches his arms above his head. His body's long and lovely.

“Now what, then?” I ask. I consider bringing up the idea of giving him a rimjob (I've done a little more Googling on that since yesterday), but I don't know that he's ready for that. I suppose we could watch something on telly, maybe go for a walk. Baz sort of looks like he could have a nap.

“Hm, dunno.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the couch.

“It's a bit early for dinner,” I say.

“Mm,” he agrees.

“Are you tired? D’you need some blood? A coffee?”

“Maybe in a bit,” he says. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“D’you want to put a movie on?”

“Sure, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep.”

We end up picking a film called  _The Perks of Being a Wallflower._ I lie on the couch with my back against the armrest so my wings can stretch out behind me. Baz lies on his stomach between my legs, his head on my chest. I like that. It’s easy to thread my fingers through his hair, to run my hands over his back and feel the muscle there. My tail comes up and coils around his calf.

The movie is funny, but it’s sad, too. It’s caught Baz’s attention; he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Patrick has your fourth year haircut,” I say. It’s moments like this that make me wonder how I went so long without knowing  _why_ I was so obsessed with Baz. I can actually remember every haircut he’s had since he was eleven years old.

 

**BAZ**

 

The movie itself is a bit uncomfortable at times, but I was ready for that. I read the book years ago.

What  _is_ comfortable is lying here with Simon. He plays with my hair throughout the whole thing, rubs my back. I listen to the film with one ear and to his heart with the other. He’s so warm, so alive. It’s a wonder I don’t fall asleep.

When it’s over, Simon says, “Well, that was. That was. Crowley.” As descriptive as ever.

“It’s got some heavy themes,” I say. “But the ending’s a symbol of hope, rebirth-,”

“You’ve read the bloody book, haven’t you?” Simon says. Then, “Of course you have.”

I smile against his chest. “Yes, though this was a decent adaptation.”

“Well, I thought it was brilliant. Especially when it wasn’t depressing, though I suppose it wouldn’t be brilliant without those bits.” He’s still stroking my hair. I close my eyes and just  _feel._ “You know what I want to do now?” he says. “I want to watch that  _Rocky Horror_ whatsit-,”

“Mm, probably we should’ve watched that first so you had the reference,” I say. Fiona took me to a screening once, like in the film. It was an experience, to say the least.

“-and I want to go for a drive and stand up and do that thing.”

I lift my head from his chest so I can see him properly. “That...that’s quite dangerous, Simon. Plus the wind would get caught in your wings.”

He rolls his eyes. “They’re always in my bloody way. Anyway. It’d be fun. I’m sure you could spell me safe.” I think of the logistics and suppose standing through a sunroof in a sedan isn’t quite as dangerous as standing up in the bed of a truck.

“We can't do that on the motorway,” I say. The last thing either of us needs is to be arrested.

“I don’t mean on the motorway,” Simon says. “We could drive out to the country, pick up something to eat on the way. I know how much you like Big Macs.”

“You’ll get crumbs in my car, Snow,” I say. My father gave me his old Jaguar when I moved to London. I’m still getting used to it being mine. I’ve kept it spotless, so far.

“You’re a  _mage_ ,” Simon says, which seems to be his argument for everything these days. (Yes, I could spell a mess away but it’s the _principle of the thing._ ) “Anyway. It’s a bit of a drive. I’ll suck you off on the way.”

And that’s how we end up driving out to the countryside so my idiot boyfriend can stand through my sunroof to whoop at the sky.

 

**SIMON**

 

We’ve been in the car long enough for the sun to go down.

The drive’s been fun. Giving a bloke a blowjob while he drives a car is a bit of tedious work, but I enjoyed it. I think Baz liked it, too, even if he did seem a little nervous about it at first. (He wouldn’t let me do it till the sun went down even though we haven’t seen many cars in a while. Personally I found the thought of someone seeing us a turn-on.)

There’s barely anybody on the road so I figure now’s as good a time as any. I pick up Baz’s mobile to start looking for music. “What was that song they played in the movie?” I ask.

I can’t see him raise an eyebrow at me, but I know he’s doing it. “That's a David Bowie song, Snow. ‘Heroes’?”

“I don't know much about music, Baz. Not much of a market for that in care homes.” He doesn’t say anything to that. I didn’t mean to upset him; it’s just the way things were for me growing up.

I find the song in Baz's music app and turn in up till it’s blasting through the Jag’s speakers.

“Crowley, Snow, you'll blow our eardrums!” Baz yells.

“It needs to be loud for full effect!” I yell back.

Baz shakes his head but he's smiling. He pushes the button to open the sunroof and I think of how bloody hilarious it is that my vampire boyfriend has a sunroof in his car. This is probably the only use he’ll get out of it.

I undo my seatbelt and clamber up through the roof. (I'm glad Baz spelled my wings in; it's windy up here.) My hair whips around my face. (Probably I should go in for a trim before uni starts; it’s been awhile.) I close my eyes and breathe the country air. The sea’s not far off; I can smell that on the air, too.

My arms stretch out to my sides and I feel the air rushing through my fingers. When I tilt my head, the stars seem so close, almost like that night in Mummers Tower. I can feel Baz’s hand on my calf, holding me steady.

 

_I, I can remember_

_(I remember)_

_Standing by the wall_

_(By the wall)_

_And the guns, shot above our heads_

_(Over our heads)_

_And we kissed, as though nothing could fall_

_(Nothing could fall)_

 

I feel like I'm letting go. Letting go of everything that happened with the Mage and the Humdrum, what happened to Ebb. Losing my magic. I think about Baz and how much I love him. I think about starting classes, about starting the food blog. I feel like I've got a shot at a future, at a (relatively) normal life.

 

_And the shame, was on the other side_

_Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever_

_Then we could be heroes just for one day_

 

I feel almost like I felt when I could fly, only I never felt  _safe_ then. I feel safe now, safe because Baz is driving. Baz is holding onto me.

I think,  _Maybe the future isn’t so scary._

“Alright up there, Snow?” Baz yells over the music.

“This is brilliant!” I shout, then let out a triumphant whoop.

 

* * *

 

We’re on our way back to the flat when I finally decide to just ask.

“Baz? I have a question, but I don’t want you to be cross.”

“Why would I be?”

“I was talking to Penny, earlier-,”

“Have you been giving her more details about our sex life?” He’s keeping his eyes on the road so I can’t really see his expression. He doesn’t  _sound_ cross. Slightly amused, maybe.

“Not...exactly. It’s. Well, I wanted to ask her about the vampire thing. You know, the condom thing? And we were talking and I just wanted to tell you what she said.”

Baz sighs. “It probably won’t change my mind, Simon, but go ahead.”

“She said something about current research and how they think the vampire venom needs to get into the other person’s bloodstream for them to Turn. Like, you’d have to push your venom in on purpose.”

Baz sighs  _again_. “Research is research, Simon. It’s hypotheses, not absolute fact.”

“Yeah, we talked a little more about it and she said it’s a hard subject. Since, well. You’d have to actually have a volunteer for the study.”

“Right.” He’s being terse. I don’t know if he’s irritated with me or just uncomfortable. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve sprung this on him in the car.

Well, no going back now. “Did you know about that? The venom thing?”

“I did. I may know fuck-all about vampires but I do try to stay informed on current information. Fiona tells me things she hears on the job, too.” Right, the vampire-hunting job my vampire boyfriend’s aunt does. I don't pretend to understand _that_ dynamic.

“Alright, well. Anyway, I told Penny that you wanted to use a condom because you didn’t want to Turn me accidentally. That’s kind of the part I didn’t want you to be cross with me about. I’m just trying to find out as much as I can, yeah? And Penny, like, knows the most out of anyone I know besides you. So.”

“We apparently crossed that awkward bridge with Bunce days ago. It's fine.”

“Yeah, right. So.” I spit out the next bit as fast as I can. “Anyway, she asked me if we’d been using condoms for...other stuff. She said you can get STIs from oral sex too, and she thought it was weird that you hadn’t thought of that.”

Baz is silent as he pulls the car over to the side of the road and puts it in park. He runs his hands over his face. “ _Fuck_.”

“Baz,” I put my hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s. I’ve been an absolute  _moron._ I can’t believe. Fuck, I’ve been putting you at risk this whole bloody time!”

“But you haven’t! I’m fine, yeah? Better than fine, really. If your come could Turn me, it totally would’ve happened by now.”

“ _Simon_. That’s not the point. The point is I was  _careless_. Bunce’s right; I should’ve thought of that.” He looks over at me. “When was this, earlier today? You gave me a blowjob not even an hour ago. Are you  _mad_?”

I shrug. “If being obsessed with sucking you off makes me a madman, then yeah, I guess.”

“This isn’t  _funny_ , Simon.”

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world. If anything, it’s helpful information, innit? You have to admit that it’s alright. The blowjob bit, I mean. I’ve proved that myself, haven't I?”

Baz grips the steering wheel and just stares at it for a minute. When he looks back at me, his eyebrows have assumed the position. He lifts a hand, drops it back onto the steering wheel _._ His face looks like he’s trying to say something but the words aren’t coming out. Finally, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’ve proved the blowjob bit. Frequently and with enthusiasm.”

I just need to ask. Just get it out of the way. “I thought, well. Maybe it’d be alright to do it without a condom? You know, when we do.”

He sighs, rubs the back of his neck. (I think he’s rubbing his scar.) “Simon...Look, probably someday, alright? For now I'd be more comfortable if you used one. I’ll. I’ll look into it more, see what I can find.”

I reach over and take his hand, partly so he’ll stop rubbing that spot. My thumb runs over his knuckles. I’m not afraid of him; he  _has_ to know that. I’m also convinced a vampire can’t Turn a person by making love to them. And that’s what I want, to make love to Baz. I also want him to feel comfortable when we do, so I say, “Whatever you want, love. I just want you to know that I'm alright with going without. Whenever you're ready.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, me just stroking his knuckles. I wonder what he's thinking. Probably too much, really. I wish I knew how to just make him stop.

Well, maybe I do.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hm?” He looks pretty, almost  _ethereal_ in the moonlight.

“I love you, you know “

He smiles, just a little. “I love you too.”

I wait a beat. “Fancy a snog, then?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Crowley, Snow,” he says, but he reaches down to move his seat back anyway. I grin and clamber on top of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Perks of Being a Wallflower trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5rh7O4IDc0)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Rocky Horror scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axcECZzlPVI)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tunnel Scene #1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMalrBgdRvI)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tunnel Scene #2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMSkavUrzHM)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I gave in & ended up splitting this part into two chapters. The second half is almost done so should be up tomorrow or Friday!

**BAZ**

 

It's our last night together before Bunce comes home.

We have a dinner reservation this evening. I thought it'd be nice to treat Simon to dinner on a Friday night - in public - like a normal couple. I've made certain we'll have a relatively private space, but I've also been practicing that  _Star Wars_ spell on my fangs ever since we watched those damnable movies. (I made my incisors disappear the first few times I tried, but I think I've got it down well enough now.) Simon doesn't know I can do that yet; I haven't done it in front of him.

Simon doesn't know we're going to dinner tonight, on a  _date._ He also doesn't know that I've brought our suits from Christmas with me in my trunk.

When I made the reservation, I thought maybe tonight might be the night we slept together for the first time. (I'm glad I was wrong; it's been an absolutely lovely week spent in bed. And in the shower. And on the lounge floor.)

Well, maybe we'll have another first tonight.

Simon hasn't brought up the condom issue again since last night, and thank Crowley for that. If I'm completely honest with myself, we probably don't need one, but still. I want to keep Simon safe, even if he  _is_ right about the oral sex bit. Obviously that hasn't hurt him. All Simon seems to have gotten from sucking me off seems to be a voracious appetite for sucking me off. Not that I'm complaining.

Today's been yet another lazy day, so far.

We woke up, had a shag, had a shower, had a shag  _in_ the shower, had breakfast. Simon's been fiddling with his camera off and on all day, sneaking photos of me when he thinks I'm not looking.

Our reservation is at seven. My mobile says it's just past four.

“Snow?” I say.

“Yeah?” He's scrolling through the photos he's taken, I think, under the guise of trying to figure out what all the buttons and knobs on the camera do.

“I'm taking you out tonight.”

He looks up at me. “Out?”

“Yes, Snow. Out. Did I stutter?” I get up from the couch and start toward Simon's bedroom. “No need to come with,” I say, because he's stood as if to follow me. (I can't have him following me; I've a task that needs doing.) “I'll be back in a few minutes, love.”

I close his door behind me, lock it just in case his curiosity gets the better of him. (He  _has_ been known to follow me about.)

“ _ **As you were**_ ,” I say once I've retrieved my wand from the bedside table. Nothing happens. I should have known; Snow doesn't make his bed, just falls into chaos every night.

I try **A place for everything and everything in its place** and the bedclothes make themselves up into something presentable. Much better.

I pull the suits from my trunk, lay them out on the bed, and  **As you were** the wrinkles out of them.

I look at them for a moment, play with the lapels on Simon's grey suit. (It’s truly Simon’s, now; I’ve had the legs taken up, broadened the shoulders a bit.) I think,  _Is this too much?_ I doubt that Simon's ever been to a restaurant that requires formalwear.

Well, he'll probably be fine as long as the food's good.

When I open the bedroom door, Simon's standing right on the other side. (I don't jump; I think I was half-expecting him.)

“What're you doing?” we both say. (I tack on a “Snow” for effect.)

“I told you I'm taking you out tonight. I'm certainly not taking you out dressed in a t-shirt and trackies,” I say.

He looks down at himself as if he doesn't know what he's been wearing all day.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Where're we going, then? And what're you doing in here?” He's standing on tiptoe, trying to look around me.

“Would you stop?” I say. “I'll show you.”

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon says when he sees the suits. “You've brought your suits.”

“Well spotted. But the grey one's yours, actually. I've had it tailored.”

“ _Baz_ , that's. It's a  _nice_ suit. You can't just give it to me.”

“I can, and I am. It was meant to be yours.”

“Your stepmum bought you that suit.”

“Yes, and she also took it to the tailor for me, when I asked. She’s the one who sent them to me, you know.” I haven’t been to see my family since moving to London. Probably I should, soon.

Simon’s gone over to the bed and picked his suit up. “Daphne’s lovely.”

“Yes,” I agree, because in all honesty I couldn’t ask for a better stepmother, if I have to have one.

“So’s the suit.”

“We can do the robot spell on your tail, and there should be enough room in the jacket to be comfortable if we spell your wings neatly in.”

“And  _you’re_ lovely,” he says as he sets the suit back down on the bed. “The first time I saw you in this suit…” He runs his fingers over the lapel on my green jacket. “Well, all I wanted was to get you alone and snog you senseless, didn’t I?” He turns to me and reaches up for my mouth with his. The kiss is slow, sweet, with one of Simon’s hands splayed on my jaw and the other resting on my hip. I almost forget what I brought him in here for. “Do I get to take it off you, tonight?” Simon says against my mouth. Fucking hope so.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, you do.” We’re so close my lips catch on his as I speak.

We stand there for a few minutes, just kissing, soft and slow. There’s not even any tongue involved; it’s just Simon’s lips on mine and his hands on my face. Eventually, he says, “I love Penny, but I’m glad she went to America.”

I can’t help but laugh.

 

**SIMON**

 

I haven't worn a tie since Baz's leavers ball. You'd think I'd have this down after wearing one every day for eight years at Watford, but I'm out of practice and it takes me a minute to get it right.

I can't believe Baz gave me this suit. Well, I can. He's Baz. But still.

I think about his stepmum having it fitted for me. I think about Baz's dad giving him the Jaguar so he wouldn't have to worry about public transport. I think Baz thinks his parents are disappointed in him, for being gay. I don't know for sure, but I think that's one of the few things Baz's wrong about.

Baz says we're going out for dinner. We've never gone out to a restaurant together. Baz doesn't like to eat in front of people.

I wonder how long he's had this planned.

I shrug the jacket ( _my_ jacket) on and look at my reflection in the mirror above Penny's wardrobe (I don't have a mirror, and Baz's in the bathroom). I must admit I do clean up nicely. I'm  _not_ slicking back my hair, and even though Baz looks good no matter what, I kind of hope he doesn't do his either. I like it when it falls around his face.

Baz is still in the bathroom when I come out into the lounge. I'm not sure what to do with myself while I wait. I end up sitting on the couch; I figure Baz can unwrinkle me with magic if needed.

I snap a selfie with my mobile to send to Penny.

 **Simon (5:56 pm):** guess who's going out for a posh dinner tonight

 **Penny (5:58 pm):** Basil's taking you out? In public?

 **Penny (5:58 pm):** Is he plotting something? 😏

 **Simon (5:59 pm):** if he's not, i am

 **Penny (5:59 pm):** You two are ridiculous.

 **Penny (6:00 pm):** You look nice. Send me a picture of Basil when he's done primping.

 **Penny (6:00 pm):** I'll also remind you that I'll be home tomorrow evening round 8. Please have the decency to be dressed.

 **Simon (6:01 pm):** it'll be difficult but I think we can manage

 **Simon (6:01 pm):** dinnerll be ready when you get here

 **Penny (6:02 pm):** ILY

 **Penny (6:02 pm):** I'm not looking forward to this flight. Micah's coming to London, next time.

 **Penny (6:03 pm):** Anyway, HAVE FUN. I'll see you both tomorrow.

 **Simon (6:03 pm):** yeah you too. safe trip

“You'll ruin your trousers before we even leave the flat, Snow.”

“You're a ma-,” I start, but I look at Baz and can't remember what I was going to say.

He's smirking at me, fiddling with one of the buttons on his jacket. “Cat got your tongue?” he says, thankfully without magic, the wanker. I still can't help but flinch.

“Fucking hope not. Otherwise you'll be shit out of luck later.”

We just stare at each other.

“Touché, Snow” he concedes.

“You look…” But I don't have the words. Honestly I think I've gotten used to seeing him in trackies and jeans and, well. Let's just say there's been more cause for Baz to be starkers than dressed in a suit this last week.

His dark green suit's perfectly tailored, of course. It hits every line and every curve of him just bloody perfectly. He's not slicked his hair back, either. He's tied it back that way I like. Little bits of it are framing his face. I wonder if he's done something about his scar. (I don't think he needs to, but he's self-conscious about it.)

Baz cocks an eyebrow. “I look…?”

“I'm no good at this. You look well fuckable. Not to be, you know. Crude. Like. That's not  _all_ I'm thinking about-”

“For what it's worth, you look well fuckable yourself, Snow.” He checks his watch. He's wearing a watch? Where'd that come from? “We'd best get going.”

“Yeah, okay.” I stand up. “Oh, wait. Penny wanted a photo of you.” Baz might be the only person I've ever seen who actually Iooks _attractive_ while rolling his eyes.

 

 **Simon (6:09 pm):** <photo>

 **Penny (6:10 pm):** Damn.

 **Simon (6:10 pm):** RIGHT

 

>>> 

 

I can't help but laugh in the car on the way to dinner.

“What's so funny, Snow?” Baz asks. I can  _hear_ the raised eyebrow in his voice.

“I was just thinking how I'm dressed in this posh suit while my posh boyfriend's driving me to a posh dinner in his posh car,” I say. “Who’d’ve thought?”

He shakes his head, but he's smiling, too.

When we get to the restaurant, the maî·tre d’ - yes, this place has a bloody  _maî·tre d_ ’ - calls Baz “Mr. Pitch” and takes us to a secluded table towards the back of the restaurant. (I hold my invisible tail in my hand so I don't accidentally trip any of the waiters.)

I’m a bit gobsmacked when I look at the menu (it’s a posh restaurant with posh prices), but Baz just tells me to order what I want, that it’s a  _date_ , that he wanted to take me out for a nice meal. I wonder if he thinks I  _need_ all this stuff (I don’t) or if it’s just what he’s used to. I decide it’s worth the money if it makes Baz happy to do posh stuff now and again.

He orders us a bottle of wine - a bloody _expensive_ bottle of wine - and gets up when our waiter brings our appetizer. He says, “I'll be right back, love,” around his fangs and heads to the loo. I make a point to leave him half the bread even if it is a bit of work not to eat it all while he's gone.

Only a few minutes pass before I feel his hand brush my shoulders and he moves to sit next to me (we're at a circular table).

“Good of you to leave some for me,” he says as he dips a piece of bread in the olive oil dish. (It's good and all, but I've a mind to ask for some butter.) “Hm. That's quite good,” he says, and reaches for another piece.

I just stare at him.

I say, “Where.” He chews, cocks an eyebrow at me. I have a look around before leaning in closer to say, “Where've your fangs gone?”

“The way of your tail, Snow,” Baz says. He's still  _talking_ like his fangs are out.

“The way of my. What, you've spelled them invisible?”

“Mhm,” he says, and pops another piece of bread into his mouth. He's done a good job; there's no trace of them at all (besides the lisp). But of course he's done a good job. He's  _Baz._

He takes a sip of his wine and makes a pleased little noise.  _“_ A bit of work to get it right. I've been practicing  **These aren't the droids you're looking for**  on them.”

“You didn't tell me,” I say.

“No. It was meant to be a surprise, Snow. Now we can eat out. The worst people will think is that I've got a speech impediment. I don't think I can fix that bit.” He gestures at the bread. “Do you want some more?”

I grab a piece and soak it in the oil. “You don't need to fix that bit,” I say. “Wouldn’t be you if you did, would you?”

“What, do you actually  _like_ how I sound right now?”

I shrug. “It’s a bit hot, yeah.”

He looks at me like I've gone completely mental. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s what you keep telling me.” I pop my bread into my mouth. “But I think you like it.”

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

 

>>> 

 

Even though I feel like I don't really belong in a place like this, it's nice to be out for a proper dinner with Baz. Even though _I_ don't think he needs to hide his fangs, I know why he feels he has to, obviously. And I'm glad he's found a way to be comfortable eating in public. He's lovely like this.

Baz orders a steak - rare - and that sounds so good that I order one, too. (Medium. I don't look at the price.)

“So,” I say through a mouthful of mash (rutabaga, garlic, double cream). “Uni on Monday.”

“Uni on Monday,” Baz repeats.

I take another bite. “Are you, like. Ready?”

“Yeah. It'll be good to be in school again. Have some structure.”

“Well, you  _are_ a bit of a swot,” I say.

He just rolls his eyes at me and takes another bite of meat. I finish my last swallow of wine. (It  _was_ good, but I honestly couldn’t tell much of a difference between it and the stuff we have back at the flat.)

“What about you, Snow?” Baz asks after a few more bites. “Are  _you_ ready for school?”

I haven’t thought about it much, not really. I’ve no idea what I want a degree in. I’m just taking my basic classes for now. (I’m more worried about my dragon bits popping out in the middle of class than anything else.)

“I guess,” I say. “Haven’t thought about it much.”

“You’re going to  _have_ to start thinking, one of these days,” Baz says. “Maybe it’d be a good idea to look into a marketing degree, if this venture with your blog works out.”

I think on that while I finish off my last bit of steak. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, maybe that’d be good. I’ll have to see how I like it. The whole blog thing, I mean. But yeah.”

“Eloquent as ever, Snow.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Do you want pudding?” he asks.

I grin. “Thought that was you,” I say.

Baz raises his eyebrows (honestly I don't know how they aren't permanently stuck that way) and wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin. Then he leans into me and whispers, “I thought, after dinner...we go back to the flat, take off our clothes. I want to know how it feels when you come inside me.”

Well that goes straight to my cock, doesn't it? (Even if he does say it with a lisp from his invisible fangs.)(I think the lisp makes it hotter, somehow.)

We sit like that for a moment, him just breathing in my ear, then I say, “Are you as hard as I am right now?”

He fucking  _chuckles_ in my ear. “Absolutely.”

 

**BAZ**

 

We've barely gotten situated in my car when Simon's hand goes straight for my crotch.

“Easy, Snow,” I say. I'd like to make it from the car to the flat without Simon's neighbors getting a glimpse of my raging erection.

“Baz,” he says, and when I turn my head to look at him he shoves his face into mine. (It's a damn good thing my fangs have retracted, otherwise he probably would've skewered his lip.) There's no skill to this kiss. It's just hard and hungry.

“Alright,” Simon says when he's caught his breath. “Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I interrupt this completed fic weeks after posting this chapter for an author's note*
> 
> Y'all, I'm sat here listening to bits of _Carry On_ , just fact-checking for a new fic I'm working on, when suddenly THEY ARE LITERALLY WEARING THESE SUITS DURING THE FIGHT WITH THE MAGE AT THE END. 
> 
> Fucking hell. Let's just pretend that never happened & that I probably didn't just elicit a ton of PTSD for Simon by making him wear this suit, okay?
> 
> *interruption over, thanks*
> 
> Okay, story time. 
> 
> Setting: my bedroom, 3/5/2019
> 
> So I'm giving my husband a blowjob, right, & I'm doing a damn good job. He fucking thinks so too, because he asks me where the fuck this is coming from. I start cackling over his cock because *I* know where it's coming from. I've been writing gay porn every day for the last few weeks, right?
> 
> He starts getting concerned. I'm like “I'll tell you later” because I'm trying not to totally ruin his good time. He makes me promise to tell & I finish the blowjob while simultaneously holding in my laughter.
> 
> Afterwards:
> 
> Him: So…  
> Me: *stalling* Well. It's like this…  
> Him: …  
> Me: …  
> Him: … *looking concerned*  
> Me: IWRITEGAYPORNNOW *runs from our bedroom*  
> Him: WAIT EXPLAIN  
> Me: *pops head out from around the corner of our door where I've been hiding* You were right. It's a slippery slope.
> 
> Some time later…
> 
> Him: See? I am right about some things sometimes. I just...didn't think I'd be right about you writing erotic fanfiction.  
> Me: I think I'm pretty good at it, actually.  
> Him: So write your own shit. I don't care if we get rich from you writing gay erotica. We'll just have to figure out something else to tell my dad.
> 
> ...🤷🏻♀️


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - part 2

**BAZ**

 

Simon’s barely closed the front door before I’m shoved against the wall.

I half expect him to start tearing my clothes off, but he just pulls my face down into his and slots one of his thighs between mine. He's hard against my hip already.

Well, this won't do.

I push him off me and turn us so his back's to the wall, then I get down to my knees in front of him and pull him in closer by his legs.

“What’re you doing? You’ll ruin your trousers.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but hush.” My hands run up his legs till I’ve got hold of his arse, then I nuzzle my face into his crotch and give his cock an open-mouthed kiss through his trousers. I make quick work of his belt, his zip, his button, and he steps out of his trousers as they drop to the floor. I don’t take his boxers off, just pull his cock out and take it in my mouth.

His fingers thread through my hair as I work my tongue along his frenulum. “Pull it,” I say against his cock. “Pull my hair “

“Like…” He doesn't do anything; I think I'm distracting him. We can explore that avenue another day, I suppose.

I decide I need his boxers out of the way after all, so I pull them down around his thighs. I hold his cock so that I have better access to his balls with my mouth, then I cup them with my other hand, stroke my fingers along the bit of skin behind them. “ _Baz_ ,” Simon says. This is headed in the right direction.

I lean in and gently pull one of them into my mouth.

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon says. “You'll.  _Fuck_ , you'll end up making me come if you keep that up.”

“Mm,” I hum around him and he shivers.

“You. You  _want_ me to, don't you?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I hum again, then move to take the other one in my mouth. Simon's hand in my hair tightens. I suck, gently, then sink my mouth back onto his cock. My tongue works on the underside as I take him as deep as I possibly can.

“ _Baz_ , fucking hell, that's good.” His hand moves around to the back of my head and pulls my hair loose from my elastic. I have to hold onto his hips to stop him thrusting.

Ah, there he goes. I know what he sounds like when he's close to orgasm, now. I take him down once, twice, three more times and then he's coming, growling my name.  _That's_ when he finally decides to pull my hair.

It's a mess, honestly. He ends up pulling me off his cock before he's done.

“Sorry,” he pants, then looks around as if he'll find a flannel here in the entryway. He ends up stepping out of his boxers and handing them to me so I can wipe his come off my face.

“Crowley, Snow,” I say.

“Sorry,” he says again.

I get to my feet and throw his boxers back at him. “Let's go to the bedroom, then.”

“Right,” he says, and he follows me to his room.

>>> 

“How d’you...want to do it?” Simon asks.

We've got options, a lot of them. (I've done my research.) But this time, this  _first_ time, I want us face to face. I say, “I want to see you. So…” I reach over and grab a pillow from my side of the bed, lay it down on Simon’s side. “That’ll lift my arse up a bit.”

“Right.”

“Come here, you look ridiculous,” I say. Simon looks down at himself and snorts. He's stood there with only the top half of his suit on, along with his socks and shoes. He kneels to untie his shoes first. I figure that's as good a place to start as any, so I sit on the bed to take mine off, too.

“Baz?” Simon says. He's got his jacket off now. “I dunno how to take proper care of this.”

“Just put it on the chair for now.” I say. “We can sort it later.” He does, then adds his shirt and tie to the pile and comes over to kneel in front of me.

“You're overdressed,” he says.

“Thought you wanted to be the one to do it,” I say.

He grins that stupid, adorable grin. “Yeah.” He runs his hands up and down my thighs. “C'mon, then.” He stands and pulls me up with him, tucks a bit of hair behind my ear. “You alright, love? You're shaking.”

I'm bloody terrified, is what I am. But I want him, too.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth,” Simon says.

“Pardon?”

“That's what my therapist says to do. When I'm anxious, I mean. Breathing.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well, you don't have to. I just thought it might help, you know. And, well. Maybe it would help to know I'm a bit nervous too, yeah? I don't want to hurt you.”

“Simon, just.” I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. (Just once.) “Just kiss me and take off my clothes, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, then he holds my face in his hands and kisses me.

It’s not crazed, not like when we first got back to the flat. It’s soft and slow and lovely, and he’s doing that nice thing with his chin I like so well. He trails one hand down to rub my cock through my trousers and I sigh into his mouth.

He steps back after a moment, says, “Alright?” and I nod. He unbuttons my jacket, slips it from my shoulders, and drapes it over the desk chair with his things. His fingers slip into the waistband of my trousers and he pulls, just slightly, to bring my pelvis towards him before he sets to work on my belt buckle. He undoes my button and my zip and I let my trousers drop.

Simon's hands move around me to cup my arse. I can feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric.

“Have I told you I like your pants?” he says.

“My pants?” I ask as I undo my tie. They're just black trunks. (Calvin Klein.)

“Yeah. They're very  _you_.”

“Um. Thank you?” I say. He just grins and squeezes my arse.

He slides his fingers into the waistband of the pants in question and traces along the skin at my back, my hips, and my belly before dipping a hand in to wrap around my cock. He gives me a few long, lazy strokes and then sets to work on my shirt buttons. He kisses each bit of skin as it's exposed until he's on his knees in front of me. The way he looks up at me...I can't help but feel adored.

_Simon Snow_ loves  _me._

I slip my shirt and tie off and lay them with the rest of our clothes. Simon mouths at my cock through my pants and stares right at me all the while. “What d'you want?” he asks, his voice thick and breathy.

“Let's lie down,” I say, and we do. Simon grabs the lube from the bedside table and I adjust my pillow under my hips, slip out of my pants. I'm feeling vulnerable again - almost like the other night when we made love for the first time - but it's also  _different_. All I want is Simon on top of me, Simon  _inside_ me, and I know I'll feel safe. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. (Just once.)

Simon kneels between my legs, rests his warm hands on my knees. “D'you want me to try that thing? What you did to me?” I've done so many things to Simon the last few days that I have no idea what he's talking about.

“Use your words, Snow,” I say.

“Out in the entryway, earlier. You did that amazing thing with my balls.”

_Oh._

“I think I'd like that,” I say.

Simon smiles and kisses the inside of one of my knees. “Yeah, alright. Just let me know if I do it too hard, yeah? And _relax._ ”

 

**SIMON**

 

Baz's nervous, so I've got to make him feel good. Take his mind off things.

I know lots of things Baz likes, and I still haven't crossed off everything on my list of things I'd like to do to him.

I start by taking his cock in my mouth and paying special attention to that spot he likes. (His hips twitch at that, just a little.) Then I stroke him, slowly, and bring my mouth down to lick one of his balls. (I feel like this has the potential to go terribly wrong, but Baz made it seem easy when he did it to me and it felt so  _good_.) I suck, as gently as I can, and I must be doing something right because Baz lets out a pretty little sound. Crowley, I love it when he makes noises like that. I'm already getting hard again.

I lick my way over to the other side and suck that one into my mouth, too. Baz runs a hand through my hair, which always means I'm doing something he likes. My fingers stroke the crease of his hip as I pay his balls a little more attention, and then I start to wonder…

 

**BAZ**

 

“Can I,” Simon breathes against my thigh. “Can I put my mouth on you?”

That's a bit unexpected, but my cock jumps when he says it. I don't even think twice. I've hardly nodded when he takes me under my knees and hitches my legs up and over his shoulders. He doesn't waste any time at all, just goes straight for my arsehole with his tongue.

“ _Simon_ ,” I say. I’m a little self-conscious, but then he starts moaning into me and it all seems a little bit silly, really.

The flat of his tongue runs over me and I'm so sensitive there I hear myself  _whine_. That just urges him on, of course. His mouth's so wet and warm and  _mine._

He's  _mine._

_Simon Snow is eating my arse._ I wonder if I’m dead, if Simon actually  _did_ kill me the way he was meant to and the last nine months have just been some strange vampire heaven I’ve dreamt up for myself.

No. No, this is absolutely fucking real.

Simon pulls me closer by my hips, closer to his mouth. I’ve got my head tilted so far back I can see the bloody headboard. My hands tangle in his curls, press him further into me. I try to keep my hips still but I can't stop myself grinding into his face,  _it's so good_. My heels are digging into his back, right between his wings. He gives me one last long, slow lick and then nips at the inside of one of my thighs before sliding out from under me and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Condom?” he asks, like one final chance to say ‘no.’

I can’t say ‘no,’ not yet. No matter how much I want to. I nod, just once. Simon nods back at me and leans over to fish one out of his bedside table. He sits back on his heels between my legs and tears the wrapper open.

“Bloody hell, I think I’ve ripped it.” He leans back over to the drawer and brings three more with him. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Just in case,” he says. He opens a new condom, takes it out, and stares at it. “Baz?” he says.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how to fucking put this on.”

Crowley’s sake. I sit up and hold out my palm. “Here,” I say. He sets it in my palm and I roll it onto him, carefully. Then we both just stare at his cock, because this is actually about to happen.

“Right,” Simon says, then lunges forward and kisses me. (He  _almost_ hesitated, as if he wasn't sure I'd want to taste myself in his mouth. I do. I'm disturbed.) I bring him with me as I fall back onto the bed. He cradles my head in his hands and we just kiss for a few minutes until Simon stops and rests his forehead against mine. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too.”

He huffs a laugh. “We’re actually doing this.”

“Bloody well hope so,” I say.

He kisses me at the corner of my mouth and then moves down to kneel between my legs. He says, “Move your arse towards me a bit, love,” as he lubes up his fingers. He doesn’t even pile it on this time. I move down towards him a little more, and he kisses my thigh as his thumb presses against me. He says “Relax,” against my thigh. I do.

I let out a little moan as his first finger slides into me. I let him brush my prostate a couple times, and then I say, “Another one.” His finger stops moving.

“Already?”

“Just fucking  _do it_ , Snow.” He does. The noise I make would be embarrassing if we hadn’t already been fucking all week, and if he didn’t moan when I make it.  _Relax,_ I think.  _Relax._ I can already feel my hips starting to move against him. When I look down at him, he’s watching my face. He crooks both of his fingers inside me and my head falls back onto the pillow.

“That’s it, love,” he says. “That's it.” He slides a third finger into me. I'm tempted to reach down and grab my cock, but I can't come. Not right now. I want Simon inside me for that.

I grind down onto his hand. “Fuck,  _Simon_ ,” I say. I look down at him again. He's still watching me with hooded eyes. “I want you,” I say.

His hand twists; I can feel him spreading his fingers apart inside me, working me open.

“Want you,” I say again.

“Yeah,” Simon says, and he reaches up into me and rubs against my prostate. I grind down on him harder.

“ _Simon_ ,” I say, and to my surprise he slips a fourth finger into me. That's a bit uncomfortable, but only for a moment.

“Alright?” he says. He's stopped moving again.

I realize my breath is coming hard and heavy. I nod. He rests his cheek against the inside of one of my knees, kisses me there, and starts moving his fingers again. He's shaking.

I let him go for a few minutes.  _Relax._ Then I say, “Simon?”

“Hm?” His breath is warm against my thigh.

“Simon,” I say again.

He seems to understand. He looks up at me, slides his fingers out of me, wipes them dry on the bedsheet. Then he just stares at me.

“Come here,” I say. He does. I shift my hips a little more, bring my legs up to wrap around him.

“Is this. Is this the best way?” he asks against my neck.

“It's a way,” I say.

“Um,” he says. He reaches down between us to position himself, but then I hear him fumbling for the bottle of lube, the snapped cap. “Almost forgot this bit,” he says.

I did too, honestly. I uncross my ankles so he can sit on his heels and lube himself up. (He does pile it on this time, then spreads what's left on his hand onto my arse.) My legs wrap back around him as he settles back on top of me. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. (Just once.) The head of his cock bumps into me and we both let out a shaky breath.

“Alright,” he says, moving his hand back down between us. “Slow, yeah?”

I nod.

His hips shift closer to mine and he presses up against me. I think,  _Relax_ , and then he's sinking into me. I'm gripping his biceps so hard I can feel his heartbeat. “ _Stop_ ,” I say; it's almost a whisper.

“You alright? Does it hurt?” It doesn't hurt, not exactly. But there's so much _pressure._

“I just. I need a minute,” I say. “Don't move.”

“Okay,” he says, then, “Can I kiss you?”

His mouth's on mine as soon as I nod.  _Relax_ , I think. He moans as his tongue slides against mine. I whimper into his mouth.

My hands move from his biceps to tangle in his curls. Our mouths move together like they were made for each other. (Maybe they were.) I pull back, move my mouth to his ear, and say, “More.” He groans as he pushes further into me. I've no idea how far we have to go; I feel so  _full_ but I know we're probably only halfway there, if that. “ _Stop,_ ” I say again.

His head drops down to rest against mine, his forehead slick with sweat. “ _Fuck_ , Baz,” he says.

“Yeah,” I breathe, then we're kissing again. I'm about to tell him to keep going when he does it on his own; I'm not sure he can help it. I try to say  _fuck_ but we're still kissing so I just groan into his mouth instead. It's difficult, breathing as hard as I am through my nose. Simon must notice because he pulls back.

“Nearly,” he says. (He's breathing hard, too.) “Nearly there.” I can feel his heartbeat in his cock. I think,  _Simon Snow is inside me._

We breathe each other's air for a few minutes, our foreheads pressed together.

I think,  _Relax._

I say, “Carry on, Simon,” and he sinks the rest of the way into me, his hips pressing against the backs of my thighs.

He braces himself with his forearms on either side of my head, and when he looks at me, he's grinning. “Alright?” he asks.

“Just kiss me, Snow,” I say, and he does.

 

**SIMON**

 

I'm glad Baz thought to suck me off before we started, otherwise I probably wouldn't have made it all the way inside him.

I can barely bloody think right now. All I know is how  _tight_ he is around me. I just want to move, but I don't want to hurt him. I hope I'm not hurting him.

I'm glad Baz wanted it this way to start. I like to look at him. I want to see his face.

He's so fucking beautiful.

I say, “You're so fucking beautiful.”

He says, “You're not bad yourself, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before.” I grin at him.

He nods, just once. “I suppose I did.”

I kiss his forehead. “I love you,” I say.

“I love you, too, Simon.”

“I love being with you,” I say. I dip my head to kiss his collarbone. “I love your legs around me.” I kiss his neck. “I love hearing you moan, and making you come.”

“ _Simon_ ,” Baz says as I suck at the skin beneath his ear.

“And I love this,” I say in his ear.

“What's  _this_ , Snow?”

I move so that I can look at him. His eyes are so lovely. I say, “Being inside you.” It's almost a whisper.

“ _Simon_ ,” he says. “ _Move._ ” I do.

 

**BAZ**

 

The first roll of Simon's hips is a bit of a shock; my body's still getting used to having him inside me. The noise he makes, though,  _oh_ that fucking noise in my ear goes straight to my cock.

I let my legs fall away from his waist so that I can reach down and grab his arse. My hands press into him, urge him forward, and that's when I feel it. And here I was thinking Simon's  _fingers_ on my prostate felt good. The feel of his cock as he brushes me there is almost something else entirely. I let out a shaky moan in his ear.

“Fuck, Baz, I love you so fucking much,” Simon says. He's panting against my neck. “You feel so fucking _good._ ”

I turn my head and find his lips, swallow his moans as I lick into his mouth. My hips find a rhythm to match his. I think,  _Making love with Simon Snow is so much_ easier  _than teaching him to dance._

He reaches down between us to stroke my cock in time with his thrusts. It's so good. So fucking good.

I think,  _I know what this feels like_. It feels like Simon's pushing his magic into me, only much more intense.

I think,  _We were always two compatible magicks coming together._

_This_ is a different sort of magic.

“Baz,” Simon says. He's stopped moving. His cock is pulsing inside me. “I...I'm close.”

“S'alright, love,” I say. I have a brief thought of flipping us over and riding his cock till he comes, but at the same time I want him just like this. (Also I don't know if my arse can handle that right now.)

“I want you to come first,” he says. He doesn't give me time to answer, just kisses me soft and slow as his hand moves on my cock between us. His hips start to move with tantalizing slowness, his cock sliding deliciously into me. He snaps his hips at the end of each languid thrust and all I can say is “ _Simon, Simon, Simon,”_ in his ear.

He doesn't pick up his pace till my back starts to lift off the bed. “That's right, love,” he says. “Come for me. Come for me, Baz.” My eyes slip closed as the first wave hits me. Simon kisses me on my open mouth and then I can feel his heart, so fast, and his cock pulsing inside me. His body sings with his blood. Each wave of his orgasm carries me through mine as he strokes my prostate again and again and again.

My body sinks into Simon’s bed, and Simon sinks against me.

 

**SIMON**

 

When I look down at Baz, he looks exhausted, but in a good way. (I’m knackered, too; it’s a bit of work being on top for so long.) There’re tear tracks running down his temples, just one for each eye. I hope I didn’t hurt him. I stroke the sides of his face, brush the tears away, then run my hand through his hair.

“Simon,” he says. My name slurs in his mouth, just a bit. “Pull out,” he whispers. “Please.” I don’t really want to - I want to stay here just like this - but I know he’s probably sore. His mouth opens just a bit as I slide out of him, and that’s when I notice his fangs’ve popped. I don't know if he knows. (I'm not going to tell him.)

“Bring me my wand, would you? Inside my jacket,” Baz says when I get up to throw the condom out. He uses it to clean us up, then curls into me when I lie back down. His fangs've gone. (Wherever they go.)

I kiss his temple. “Alright?”

“Brilliant,” he says.

I wrap my arms around him, rest my head against his. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my husband & I are in the car driving for 12 hours today. I'm over here touching up the rimjob sequence.
> 
> Him: says something  
> Me: Mhmm  
> Him: *looks over, sees I'm typing* Oh, are you writing right now?  
> Me: Yes  
> Him…  
> Also him: So who's sucking who off right now?  
> Me: NO they're nOT
> 
> 15 minutes later & I'm staring into the distance trying to think up a proper transition because transitions are the bane of my existence.
> 
> Him: Are you okay?  
> Me: Yeah, just thinking.  
> Him: … The penis usually goes in the butt for gay guys  
> Me: STOP
> 
> Meanwhile we're listening to [ shit like this ](https://youtu.be/UygoPVr7Aok) in the car. (We invited this band to our wedding. They did not show up.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - part 3  
> Day 8 - part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little mini update!

**SIMON**

 

We stay here in bed for now.

It's not terribly late, I don't think, but we're both knackered. Baz is curled into me; has been since we finished. His eyes are closed but he's not sleeping. (I  _know_ what he sounds like when he sleeps.) He's still got his watch on, so I tilt my head to check the time. Just after 10.

I listen to the sounds in the flat, the sort you don't really notice when you're up and about. I listen to Baz breathing. He's so  _alive_ , no matter what he says.

My arm tightens around him. As much as I love Penny, I don't really want this week to end, not yet.

My heart just feels so... _full._

“Baz?” I say.

“Hm?” His breath's cool on my skin.

“How's your arse?”

He snorts. “Little sore,” he mumbles into my chest. “But you keep telling me I'm a mage, so. Could heal it up if it gets to be too much.”

“Will it. Well. Will it always be like that? Sore. Afterwards.” I really hope not. I don't want to hurt him every time we have sex.

I feel him smile against my skin. “No, Snow. Not if we keep at it.”

“That's good then,” I say. I'd definitely like to keep at it. “It. It didn't hurt the whole time, did it? I mean. You sounded like you were enjoying it, so.”

“No, love,” he says. “You were perfect.” He's still talking into my chest.

_Perfect._ No one's ever called me perfect at anything before.

“Well,” I say. “So were you. But you've always been, so. No surprise there.”

He lifts his head from my chest and looks at me with tired eyes. His perfect hair's falling in his face. (I like it.  _I_ did that.) He shifts, crawls on top of me, and presses himself down into me. (I like that, too.) His hair falls down into  _my_ face, and then he kisses me.

There's nothing heated about this kiss. It's soft and cool and gentle, and I think about how strange it is to think of Baz as  _gentle_ , of all things.

It's not so strange, not anymore.

I hold the back of his head with one hand and press the other into the space between his shoulder blades. His skin's cool beneath my fingers.

He pulls back and nestles his face into my neck. “Are you comfortable?” he asks.

“Yeah, my wings're still spelled in from dinner,” I say. That makes it easier to lie on my back.

I feel him sigh against my skin. “Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

It's a weird angle to kiss him from, but I try anyway. I end up just sort of nudging his head with my chin. (I was aiming for his temple; I really like kissing him there. I wonder if it has anything to do with his mum, how that’s where she kissed me during her Visiting.)

“Is there anything you want to do?” I ask. “Before bed, I mean. It’s not too late.”

“Mm. I need to drink,” he says. “Then bed, I think.”

“Alright,” I say. “I'll go heat it up. You can stay here, if you want.”

He lifts himself up so he can look at me. “I am  _not_ drinking blood in bed, Snow.”

Figures. “Yeah, alright. Let me up, will you?”

He squeezes my side - I'm not sure what that means; thank you, maybe - and rolls onto his back. I get up and find a pair of trackies to pull on.

“You want your wings undone?” Baz says. He's gotten up, too.

I look down and see that my tail's starting to show. “Nah,” I say. “They'll come undone by themselves soon enough.” I don't know how much magic it takes to spell my wings, but he's tired, and magic's tougher to do when you're tired. (Truth is the left one's got a bit of a cramp.)

Baz just says, “Bathroom,” and walks out of the room. I watch him go, then head to the kitchen.

I'm stood at the stove stirring the blood for Baz when I feel his hands on my hips, then his lips on the back of my neck. My first thought is that even though his hands are so cool against my skin, they're still so  _warm_. And it's not even weird. Then I think it's a good thing my wings are spelled in, otherwise Baz wouldn't be able to come up behind me like this. (I really should see about getting them removed; I  _like_ him behind me like this.) Then I wonder what would happen if I asked him to bite me, if I told him it's okay. (He'd  _never_ do it. And I think he'd probably be cross if I even tried to bring it up.) I tilt my head to the side, just a bit, and say, “You'd better get your sieve, love.” His hands squeeze at my hips and then he's gone. I turn off the burner.

Baz's waiting for me at the sink with the sieve and a glass. He looks like he's thinking something over.

“I like it when you call me that,” he says. I can barely hear him as I pour the blood.

I rinse the saucepan and set it in the sink. “What's that?” I say.

“When you call me love.” He swirls his blood around his glass before meeting my eyes. “I like that.”

“Well,” I say. “That's what you are, innit? My love.”

I think Baz'd be blushing if he'd already had a drink, but his glass is still full.

I take him by the hip and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Drink up before it gets cold.” He does.

 

**BAZ**

 

I wake up on the brink of orgasm, Simon's hot mouth around my cock, and the sounds of my own moaning. I've barely registered what's happening as my back arches and I come down his throat. His warm hands squeeze at my thighs as his mouth slows around me. I haven't even opened my eyes yet.

There's a kiss at my hip bone and then Simon flops down next to me. I roll into him, drape an arm over his waist. His lips press into my temple and I have the fleeting thought that I should help get him off, but his body's so warm against mine and I'm still half-asleep.

Simon's lips brush my ear. “How're you feeling, love?”

“Mmph.” My body's waking up, slowly but surely, and I can feel a pleasant sort of ache inside me. (Maybe it's not pleasant; maybe I'm just a masochist.  _Maybe_ I just like the reminder that Simon Snow was inside me last night.)

Aleister Crowley,  _Simon Snow was inside me last night._

I finally open my eyes. “That's a lovely way to wake up,” I say.  _Simon Snow just woke me up with a blowjob._ All of my teenage dreams are coming true. (And then some.)

Simon presses his lips to my temple again. “Wanted to make you feel good,” he says. “Are you sore, still?”

“A bit,” I say. “Don't worry about it, love. I like it.”

“Oh,” he says. “Hm.”

I nuzzle into his neck and breathe in the scent of him (sweat, sex, cheap shampoo, a hint of flour,  _Simon_ ). A dream couldn't smell so real as this. “When will Bunce be home?”

“She said ‘round eight. Told her I'd make dinner. We'll need to go to the grocer's today at some point; I want to try out a curry.” His arm tightens around my shoulders. “You'll stay for dinner, yeah?”

Ah. I'd almost forgotten that I'm supposed to go back to Fiona's tonight. I say, “I suppose someone will have to give you an honest opinion.”

He kisses my temple again and I can feel him smiling against my skin.

“I'll miss you. You know. When you aren't here every day,” he says.

I'll miss him too, of course. “Yes, well. We decided we needed different roommates, didn't we?”

“Yeah. I know.”

I know _why_ we made that decision, and I  _know_ \- if the last week's events are any indication - that Simon would be an incredible distraction from my schoolwork if we lived together. It'll be good for us to have some time apart. (I wonder if Bunce and her boyfriend have talked about getting a flat together, then immediately feel guilty. It's  _good_ for Simon to live with Penny. At least for now.)

“Baz?” Simon says.

“Yeah?”

“I was saying that maybe we could move in together. You know, when Penny moves out to live with Micah.” Oh. Maybe I'm  _not_ the only one thinking about the future. “I dunno when that'll be, but. Well. I love you, and I want to be with you. You're my family, yeah?”

_Family._

Simon thinks of me as  _family._

I lift my head from his chest so I can look him in the eye. “Yeah, love,” I say. “I am.”

His blue eyes are soft as he looks at me and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. Then he reaches up for my mouth and kisses me.

 

>>> 

 

We end up getting off together in the shower.

I have to spell Simon's wings every time we get in the shower together, otherwise we don't fit comfortably. I take advantage of the situation and stand behind him so I can get him off with my hand. (Of all the things we've done this last week, handjobs haven't really been the focus.)

His head rests against my shoulder and I learn the best ways to touch him this way by listening to the sounds he makes. He likes a turn of the wrist at the end of a stroke. He likes my mouth at his neck and when I whisper lewd things in his ear. He likes it when my cock hardens against his arse, and when he comes, I hold him steady as his knees buckle.

When he asks me what I want, I have him do the same to me. His grip around me is firm but his lips are so soft against my back, my shoulders, my scar. I come thinking of all the things we did last night, of his tongue inside me, his  _cock_ inside me.

Well. As much as I'd like Simon inside me again, I don't know how plausible it is that we'll be doing that again any time soon. The more I've woken up, the more my arse  _aches._ Sitting's a bit of work. So is walking.

I think Simon feels guilty. He keeps looking at me with what seems like pity.

“Would you  _quit_ giving me that look?” I say. “We wanted to fuck. We did. This is part of the process.”

“Come on, Baz,” he says. “You said you'd heal it up if it got too bad.”

“It's a sore muscle, is all,” I say. I wonder if speeding up the healing process with magic is even a good idea. Coach Mac always had us train like Normals, work through the pain. He said we'd appreciate our hard work more that way. “ _And anyway_ ,” he'd say, “ _healing with magic is a_ waste  _of magic if it's not an emergency_.” (I still did, sometimes, though I also grew exceedingly fond of Epsom salts. I would've brought some with me if Simon had a bathtub.)

I'd really like to stop thinking about bloody _Coach Mac_ in relation to sex with my boyfriend.

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon says. “I'd feel better if you'd just-,”

“ _Fine_ ,” I say. “Crowley.”

I feel ridiculous, stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and telling my arse to  **Get well soon** , but it works well enough. Maybe we'll be able to try again tonight.

In the afternoon, we take my car to an Indian market where I watch Simon become stupidly happy over the selection of curry spices. It makes me smile. Simon deserves to be happy, especially after everything he's been through.

When we get back to the flat, Simon insists on sucking me off one last time, “just the two of us.”

I remind him that there will still be plenty of opportunity for privacy when Bunce is back, but I let him give me an absolutely spectacular blowjob anyway. (Of course I do.)(The things Simon Snow can do with his tongue should be considered criminal, honestly.) I pay him back in kind, then he slips into trackies and a t-shirt.

He hands me a clean pair of trackies too. “It's just Penny,” he says when I give him a look. “Might as well be comfortable, yeah?” He shrugs. “Besides, I like how they look on you.”

Well, trackies  _are_ more comfortable than jeans.

We start cooking dinner around six. Simon puts me in charge of the rice and I realize I haven’t cooked rice once in my life.

“It’s easy enough with the pressure cooker,” he says. “There’s a ‘rice’ button.”

Ten minutes later he has to fix it. (“You’ve got to have the valve turned to the proper setting, love.”)

I know fuck-all about cooking.

Simon, meanwhile, is chopping up vegetables at a rate that makes me nervous. “For fuck’s sake,  _please_ don’t cut yourself,” I say.

Simon doesn’t look up. “I won’t,” he says. “Besides, you’re a _mage_ , if I do.”

“I’m a  _vampire_ ,” I say.

He sets his knife down and sets in on mixing spices in a bowl. “Yeah, well,” he says. “Haven’t drained me dry yet, have you?”

I roll my eyes. There’s no point in arguing with him about it, even if arguing with Simon  _is_ ingrained in me at this point. (I push him up against the counter and snog him instead.)

The whole thing eventually comes together into a chicken curry that smells wonderful. I tell him as much.

“Yeah?” he says. “I know you're picky with curry. So. I got the spices I think you'll like best.”  

I'm snogging him against the counter again when I feel a vibration in the pocket of his trackies. He pulls away. “Sorry, love,” he says. “It's not you, obviously, so it's probably Penny.” He pulls his mobile out and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, she's downstairs. Says this is our fair warning.”

We kiss and kiss and kiss until we hear a key in the lock, then a door opening, and then -

“Nicks and Slick, this whole place smells like come!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - this was originally meant to be the penultimate chapter & then it went & turned itself into three. So...expect two more at some point this week because they're mostly written already (the one after this just needs fleshed out a little more).
> 
> We're back from our road trip so I should be able to get the next one done within a day or two. I originally thought I'd get a bunch written on vacation, but I was constantly surrounded by my young niece & nephews, so ... yeah.
> 
> Me: I've been wanting to write, but the kids are always nearby or sitting next to me…  
> My husband: Yeah, can't have them looking over & reading about balls slapping & jizz flying -  
> Me: NO that's. It's. Well THERE'S MORE TO IT THAN THAT.
> 
> Anywho. Thanks for reading! 💜


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - part 2 (welcome home, Penny)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like...mildly happy with how this turned out. I'm still trying to get the hang of Penny's voice. Ah, well.

**PENELOPE**

 

Simon and Baz are stood in the kitchen when I walk in. Basil looks slightly mortified. Simon's just got his head cocked at me like a confused puppy. “Hey Pen!” he says.

“Basil, relax,” I say as I pull my trunk over the threshold. “I'm having you on. Smells like curry.” I say to Simon, “It does smell lovely, Si.”

Baz runs a hand through his hair. “Right, of course,” he says. He looks like he's  _trying_ to look composed. (It’s not often he doesn’t.)

“I mean, I believed you,” Simon says as he walks over to me and takes my trunk. “Wouldn't be surprising, really.”

His lips are swollen, I notice, and his face flushed. It's a good thing I sent that text, then. I imagine they've been going at it non-stop since I left.

It's not like  _I'm_ surprised, really. They've got years of sexual tension to catch up with. I just hope they aren't using sex as a coping mechanism for all their problems.

“Lounge wear's a good look on you, Basil,” I say once my things are tucked away in my room. Baz could probably pull off anything if he tried, but it’s still a novelty seeing him in anything but a Watford uniform. “Maybe get yourself some trackies of your own, though,” I say. “Simon’s aren’t quite long enough, are they?” He’s compensated for the lack of length in the leg by slinging them low on his hips.

“Mm,” is the only response I get. I think I embarrassed him with the come comment, earlier.

Simon and I don’t have a dining table, so the three of us sit down to dinner on the floor around the coffee table. Basil’s only recently started eating around me. (I take that as a compliment.)

“Simon,” I say, my mouth half-full with my first bite of curry. It's delicious. All the flavors meld together so well and I wonder, not for the first time, how he manages it. (I’m pants at cooking myself.) Maybe he's got some magic left in him after all. “This is good,” I say. “ _Really_ good. You should put the recipe up. What d’you think, Basil?”

Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ll let you know when I’ve taken a bite,” he says. Basil’s normally so well-spoken; I haven’t quite gotten used to the way he sounds with his fangs out.

He gathers up some curry on his fork and takes a bite. Simon’s watching him. (If Simon were sat in a seat he’d almost be bouncing out of it.)

“Well?” Simon says.

Basil looks up at him but doesn’t say anything, just takes another bite. Simon looks like he’s about to burst. Baz swallows, keeps his eyes on Simon, and takes a third bite.

Simon throws his hands into the air. “Oh,  _come on_ , Baz!”  

Basil laughs. “It’s bloody  _delicious_ , you dolt. Of course it is.” He eats some more to emphasize the point.

Simon grins like an idiot.

No, not a coping mechanism, I don’t think. Simon's been improving these last months, especially since he’s taken up cooking (a benefit to all of us), and  _especially_ since Basil's been out of school. You'd have to be a complete numpty not to notice how much they love each other. I've barely seen Simon take his eyes off Baz since I've been home.

Come to think of it, I've barely seen Simon take his eyes off Baz the last eight years.

“And you, Bunce?” Basil says. “How was your holiday?”

I sigh. The holiday itself was lovely, but travel days are bloody awful. “I’m knackered. I've just flown through multiple timezones.”

Simon points his fork at me. (It’s a miracle the food at the end doesn’t fly off.) “You're a bloody time traveler. You've come to the future!”

I look at Basil. He just shakes his head and takes another bite of his curry.

I say, “That's not how time  _works_ , Simon.”

He shrugs at me and shovels more food into his mouth. “How else would you explain it then? You're like the Doctor but with less monsters.”

I point my fork at the both of them. “You two are monstrous enough.”

Simon manages to chew and grin at me at the same time. Basil just rolls his eyes.

“Well?” Simon says. “How was Micah? How was America?”

“Micah's lovely,” I say. “He's taken a gap year, you know. He thinks he's going to come abroad for uni, next year.” That part doesn't seem real, not yet. We've been a long-distance couple for so long, I'm sure it'll be an adjustment when he gets here. A good one, but an adjustment nonetheless.

Simon's looking at me like he doesn't quite believe me. “He's. Wait, Micah's coming _here_?”

“Well,” I say, “it’s not set in stone, but he thinks so. He’s doing his research, all that.”

“Pen! That’s  _brilliant_!” Simon says. “I always thought you’d move to America.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why’s that then? Because I’m the woman?”

“What? No! I dunno.” He shrugs. “I just always assumed, I guess.”

“Well, you’ve assumed wrong,” I say. “He’s planning on flying over during the spring holiday to look at schools. He’ll stay with us, of course.”

“Yeah, brilliant,” Simon says. He looks at Baz and smiles. I wonder if the two of them have been plotting to kick me out while I’ve been away. “What about when he gets here? Will you get married?”

“Not right away, no,” I say. We’ve talked about it, of course, but we’re young, and I for one need to focus on my studies. I also need time to figure out the magic I’ll need to  _stop_ time for my proposal. I scoop my last bit of food onto my fork. “It’s an eventuality,” I say, and I can't help but smile. “No need to rush.”

The last bite of curry’s as delicious as the first.

 

* * *

 

“I've had an idea!” Simon says when we’ve all helped clean up the kitchen after dinner.

Basil leans against the countertop, arms crossed. “Wow, Snow, shall I record this momentous occasion?”

Simon doesn't acknowledge the insult. It's  _flirting_ , always has been. Sometimes I wonder how it took me so long to realize.

“You could stay one more night,” Simon says. “Go home tomorrow instead to get all your stuff ready for uni. That way we can all lounge around in our trackies and drink wine and watch the Rocky Horror whatsit.”

“The what?” I say.

Basil says, “ _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ , Bunce. Heard of it?”

“Of course. Never seen it, though. Isn't there, like, a singing transvestite?”

“Yeah.” Simon smiles, big and crooked. “Wicked, innit?”

I try holding back a yawn but it doesn’t work. “Well,” I say, “best get started if we're going to watch it. I'm knackered. Just let me get this bra off first. It's bloody killing me.” I don't know why I thought a lace bralette was  _practical_ , of all things. (In my defense, the models  _did_ make them look comfortable.) Micah appreciated it, anyway.

Simon's face lights up. “I'll get the wine.”

“You're humouring him,” Basil says as he and I leave the kitchen.

I level him with a look and a raised brow. “Right, like you never have.” I start off towards my room. “Go bring it up on the telly, Basil. I'll be back in a tick.”

When I come back into the lounge, Simon and Baz are sat on the couch snogging.

“Oi!” I say. “Thought we were watching a film, not having a fuck on the couch.” They really are a fit pair, the two of them. Damn, but I'm going to miss sex.

“You know, Bunce,” Basil says as he leans forward to pick up his wine glass from the coffee table. “Things were so _peaceful_ around here while you were away.”

“Oh, budge up,” I say as I plop down next to him.

Simon’s poured me a glass of some sort of white (I detest red wine). I take a tentative sip. “Ooh, that’s good,” I say. Just the right amount of crisp and sweet.

“It’s  _posh_ ,” Simon says.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Baz asks.

“What d _’you_ mean?” Simon says. “I mean it’s posh. The girl I asked at the shop said so.”  

“Hm.” Basil takes a sip of his red.

“What? Can’t you tell?” Simon asks. He sounds slightly distraught. “I got it for  _you_ , Baz. I didn’t want to get you shit wine.”

“I know fuck-all about wine, Snow,” Baz says, then goes to take another sip. He’s smiling around his glass.

“Alright, enough flirting,” I say as I reach for the remote. “I’m likely to fall asleep if we don’t start this up.”

When I hit play, the screen goes black and a pleasant tune begins to play. Then a giant pair of red lips starts singing at us and I know this is going to be a doozy.

 

**BAZ**

 

Well. This is an experience.

 

**PENELOPE**

 

What the fuck am I watching?

 

**SIMON**

 

...I think this movie's turning me on.

 

* * *

 

**PENELOPE**

 

When it's over, I’m not sure how to describe it, really. It was weird. But it was  _fun._ Definitely not a waste of a Saturday evening. I say, “That was...an experience.”

“My thoughts exactly, Bunce,” Baz says.

“Well, I liked it,” Simon says from the other end of the couch. He gets up and rolls his shoulders. His wings stretch out behind him. “I'm confused,” he says, brow furrowed, “but I liked it.”

“ _That_ ,” Basil points a finger at him, “is the motto of your life, Snow.”

Simon considers this and shrugs. “I'm sad though. Frank didn't deserve what he got at the end.”

“Simon,” I say. “He was a  _murderer._ ”

“Oh. Right.” He stretches his arms over his head and I hear a few bones crack. Basil's staring at the bit of skin showing where Simon's shirt's ridden up. “No,” Simon says, his arms dropping. “I'm still sad about it.” He grins at Basil. “Hey Baz, can I call you Hot Patootie from now on?”

Baz raises an eyebrow at him. “You call me Hot Patootie and this relationship is over.”

Simon drops back onto the couch next to Basil and elbows him in the side. “Will you be my creature of the night, then?”

Baz doesn't say anything to that, just closes his eyes.

Simon says, “You know, you'd probably look well fit in Frank's outfit.”

“ _Snow._ ”

“I'm just saying, you’ve got the arse for those pants. I'll be your Rocky.”

I shake my head and sigh. “Nicks and Slick, you two'll be insufferable now you've started shagging, won't you?”

Basil doesn't say anything. I hope he's not embarrassed. (It's hard to tell sometimes since he can't always blush.) Simon plants a loud kiss on his cheek and gets up again.

“You thirsty, love?” he asks. That’s new, I think, Simon calling Baz  _love._ I figure he must’ve called Agatha the same at some point, but when I think back I actually can’t recall a single instance when he called her anything but her name. Interesting, that.

“What's he doing with your blood?” I ask Baz.

“He heats it on the stove,” Basil says. “Magic. Well.” He sits up a bit straighter. “I haven't found the right amount of magic to heat it without clotting.” He's looking at me as if I'm about to challenge him.

“Oh,” I say, “Well, I'm sure we can figure it out.”

Basil stands up. “I honestly haven't thought on it much,” he says. Interesting. Baz is usually keen to solve magickal problems. (Couldn’t have beat me to top of the class otherwise.)

We head to the kitchen where Simon's stood at the stove. “Just about done,” he says.

Basil grabs a sieve from the dish rack next to the sink.

“You strain it?” I say.

“Yeah, it clots a bit, sometimes,” Simon says as he lifts the saucepan from the burner.

“Couldn't you just heat it with magic then? And pour it through the sieve?”

“It's better this way,” Basil says.  _I_ think he just likes Simon doing it for him. (It  _is_ sort of sweet.)

They stand at the sink together, Baz holding the sieve and a glass as Simon pours the blood. Baz's cheeks are full with his fangs again. He lifts the glass to his lips - I hear his fangs  _clink_ against it - and starts to drink.

I give Simon a look and raise my eyebrows  _suggestively._

Basil must see me do it, because he swallows and says, “For fuck's sake, Bunce, it's  _not_ for my cock. Crowley.” He rinses out his empty glass and heads towards Simon's room.

Simon shrugs (he’s still grinning like a fool) and hugs me. I can feel myself blushing. (It  _did_ seem a logical thing, a vampire needing blood to get an erection. Maybe vampire sex is something that transcends logic, I don't know.)

“Good to have you home,” Simon says when he lets go of me. “See you in the morning. I'll make us breakfast.” Then he makes to follow Baz.

I’m halfway to my room when I call after them, “Please, for the love of Morgana, just don’t forget to put up a silencing spell!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw RHPS for the fist time around Halloween last year, so I've inserted my thought process during the movie here as Baz, Penny, & Simon's thoughts, respectively, lol. 
> 
> Scenes Simon referenced -
> 
>  
> 
> [Hot Patootie / Bless My Soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCUBYE3kcGg)  
> [Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me (creature of the night song)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-lACxtNFO0)  
> [Have this ICONIC scene too because why the fuck not](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AR6wKRWFOoE)
> 
>  
> 
> Okay I'm done.
> 
> Wait I lied [one more!](https://youtu.be/poDujhmotFQ)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - part 3

**SIMON**

 

“You’re not cross with Penny, are you?” I ask once we’ve shut the door behind us.

“Cross?” Baz says. He grabs his wand off the bedside table.

“Yeah. You know. For talking about sex stuff.”

He considers that for a moment. “No, I’m not cross,” he says. “She’s taking the mickey.” He’s headed back towards the door.

“Yeah,” I say to his back. “She takes the mickey because she  _likes you_.” He stops with his hand on the doorknob.

“I know,” he says. “I like her, too.” Then he turns to face me. “ _Don’t_ tell her I said so. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“D’you need your wand for that, then?”

He doesn’t say anything, just opens the door and leaves.

I can feel myself smiling as I sit down on my bed. Penny’s staying in London.  _Penny’s staying in London._ Penny likes Baz. And Baz likes Penny. I think Penny and Baz are  _friends._ Everyone I love is right here with me.

Everything feels so… _right._   

Baz comes back after a few minutes and I immediately stand up.

“I’m not the Queen,” he says, but I can see him smiling as he walks past me to set his wand back down on the bedside table. I wonder what he’s thinking. I don’t know if he’s comfortable having sex while Penny's home, even with a silencing spell. (I am, I think.)

It doesn't take long for me to get an answer to  _that_ question, because when Baz turns back around, he's giving me that look. Like he wants to attack me.

He's on me before I have a chance to say anything.

He pulls my face up, crashes his lips into mine, then jams a hand down the back of my trackies (and my boxers; I put those on for Penny's sake) and grabs my arse.

 “Did the movie get to you, too?” I ask. Baz is working on my neck, nipping right under my ear. (I think I have a mole there.) I think of him biting down with his fangs and feel my cock jump. (Is that wrong? Surely not. I'm going to have to find a way to tell him about this, I think. Not now.)

 “No,” Baz says. “ _You_ got to me.” His breath's in my ear. “I'm going to fuck you.”

 He doesn't give me a chance to respond, just hoists me up by my arse and dumps me on the bed.  _Well_ , I think,  _this is new. And fucking_ hot. “Christ, Ba-,” but he's already on me again, his tongue in my mouth. I wonder, just for a second, if he's got superspeed, like in that vampire movie we watched the other day, but then he's shoved his hand down my trousers and I lose that train of thought.

 That's when I remember Penny's in the next room.

 “Baz,” I say. He's sucking at one of my nipples through my t-shirt while his hand works on my cock. I don't  _really_  want him to stop, but. “ _Baz_. We need that silencing spell. Now.”

 “Mm,” he hums around my nipple and I have to hold back a moan. (I wonder if he's doing this on purpose. Maybe he gets off on it.) “Right,” he says, then he's gone. He grabs his wand from the bedside table and points it at me. “You,” he says. After all the times I've been on the wrong end of that wand, I can't help but flinch. For a moment I think he's going to spell  _me_ quiet - which wouldn't be bloody fair at all - but then he says, “Take off your clothes while I do this.” Then he turns his back to me and starts pacing the room.

 I can't really argue with him, can I?

 He taps the wall closest to the bathroom, saying, “ _ **Silence is a true friend who never betrays**_ ,” and a sort of invisible shield spreads along it from the tip of his wand. He does the same thing on each of my walls and then turns to face me. “Can you lie on your back for long like that, or do I need to spell your wings in?”

 “What're you-,”

 “Answer the question, Snow.”

 “Um.” I flex my wings. “Better spell them, I guess.” He does.

 “Lie back, then,” he says. I do, but I'm still wondering what he's plotting. (He's clearly got  _something_  planned.)

He sets his wand down, then tosses the near-empty bottle of lube and a condom onto the mattress. He pulls his shirt over his head and slips out of his trackies ( _my_  trackies) and pants. Then he crawls onto the bed and straddles me.

 Oh.

 Oh  _fuck_ , alright.

 “You sure?” I say. “Is it, like, too soon?”

 “Quite sure, thank you. And I'm fine. I'm not leaving this flat until I've ridden your cock.”

 “Yeah, alright,” I say, because I'm bloody well not going to say  _no._

 I grab him by the hips and pull so he has to shuffle up my body a bit. “Lube,” I say. He snaps the cap before handing it over.

 I can't say  _why_ , exactly, but this bit's quickly become one of my favorite parts of sex with Baz. (Well, truth be told pretty much everything about sex with Baz is my favorite, but getting him ready's definitely at the top of the list.)

 I lube up my fingers and reach down between his legs. He must be getting better at relaxing, I think, because my first finger easily slips all the way into him. (Or maybe he did some sex spell in the bathroom, I don't know.) He sighs and grinds down against my hand.

 “Another one,” he says.

 I don't ask him if it's too soon this time. Baz knows what he wants, and I give it to him. He makes a lovely little noise when I crook my fingers inside him. He's so  _tight_  around me, and warmer than usual since he just drank. I watch my hand between his legs, watch as my fingers slip into him and back out again.

 “Another one,” he says, and I add a third finger. He's rocking against my hand, now. (I don't think he can help it.) “ _Fuck_ ,” he says. “Do you want to be inside me?” he asks.

 “Are you ready?” I say.

 “Snow,” he says, and the look he gives me is stern. “ _Do you want to be inside me?”_

 “Yeah,” I say, and I reach up into him to stroke his prostate. He keeps riding my hand, his eyes closed.

 He reaches behind himself and strokes my cock in time with the movement of his hips. “You want your cock in my arse?” he says. It's a question, but not really.

 “Yes,” I say. “You bloody well know I do.”

 “Then,” he says as he lets go of me. “Get your fucking fingers out of me.”

 Alright, then.

 He grabs the condom and tears it open before moving back to roll it onto me. Then he adjusts himself so he's straddled right over my groin.

 He holds my cock in place and looks straight at me as he starts to sink down onto it. He's gorgeous.  _Fucking ruthless._ I hold his gaze (and his hips) but I'm honestly having trouble not slamming my head back against my bed. He's not stopping, not like last night. Just sinking, slowly - so  _fucking_ slowly - until he's fully seated on top of me.

 We just stare at each other for a few moments, my cock pulsing inside him. He feels so fucking  _good_.

 When Baz starts to move, I just about lose my fucking mind.

 I reach back to hold onto his arse. The feel of his muscles moving beneath his skin sends a jolt of heat through my belly. “I want you to know,” I say between gasps, “that it's  _your_  fault if I come too soon.”

 He doesn't stop moving, just opens his mouth and groans prettily at the ceiling. (How he stays so fucking  _dignified_ while literally fucking himself is beyond me.) “Ah,” he says, and he finally looks me in the eye. “D'you need  **Candle in the wind** , Snow? Can't handle my arse on your own?”

 Oh, it is  _on_ now.

 “You self-righteous prick,” I say, but I squeeze his arse so he knows I like it, just in case he didn't feel my cock twitch.

 Baz's head tilts back and his mouth falls open in a soundless moan. I can see his fangs starting to drop, and I moan with enough volume for the both of us when I imagine him lunging forward and sinking them into me. (A part of me inside him and a part of him inside me would only be fair, really.)(I'm still not sure if he knows.)

 I bend my knees so he falls forward and I crash my mouth against his. He doesn't pull away. (Either he really doesn't know his fangs're out or he's too turned on to give a fuck.) His mouth feels different against mine like this, fuller. It’s a good sort of different. My cock's aching inside him.

 There's a wetness against my belly and I reach between us to give his cock a few long strokes. (Maybe the thought of biting me turns Baz on, too.) I spread his precome around so that my thumb can slide along that spot he likes. He moans into my mouth.

 I grab a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck and yank his head to the side so I've got a good expanse of his throat to lick and suck and  _bite_ as I drive up into him. When I pull back to look at him, his eyes are closed, his mouth open, his face flushed. His fangs are long and white and  _sharp._

 Baz sits back up, just a bit, and braces himself with his hands on either side of me. I'm still thrusting up into him. (I don't know how much more I can take, honestly.) “ _Fuck_ ,” he says. “ _Fuck,_ Simon.” He's close, I think.

 “How d'you-,” I start, but he cuts me off.

 “ _Stop_ moving,” he says, and I do. I think I know what he wants, so I straighten my legs back out on the bed behind him. He leans back, his body long and lean and beautiful. Then he starts moving again, grinding his hips against me back and forth, back and forth, and it feels so fucking good I wonder where he learned how to do this. (Probably he's just naturally good at it, just like every other fucking thing he's ever done.) It's a brief thought, really, because then Baz is touching himself while he rides me and it's a fucking miracle that I don't come from the sight alone. I just hold onto his hips and let him go.

 His mouth falls open and then he's coming and I've no idea how he manages it without making a sound. (Maybe he got good at it with all that late-night wanking he said he did back at Watford.) It doesn't matter. Baz is bloody gorgeous whichever way he comes.

 He lets out a little noise of surprise and falls against me when I bend my knees again. I find his mouth with mine and push up into him. It doesn't take me long after that, not with Baz pulsing around me and moaning into my mouth. I hold his arse still with my hands, jerk my hips one last time, and I'm coming, too.

 Baz gives one last little roll of his hips - probably just to prove he's stronger than me - and whimpers into my mouth. It must feel good, I think, to keep having his prostate stimulated even after he's come. I'll have to ask. Or maybe...

 “Aleister _fucking_ Crowley,” he pants.

 “Yeah,” I say, because that was absolutely fucking brilliant and I don't have much else to say right now.

 I stretch my legs out again as Baz lifts himself off my cock. He smiles as he goes (I can still see his fangs). Then he looks up at my face and the smile drops.

 “Baz?” I say.

 His hand flies up to his mouth. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says, and I can see him feeling the bulge of his fangs through his lips with his fingers. “ _Fuck_ ,” his voice wavers. His hands are shaking.

 “Baz.  _Baz,_ it's alr-,”

 He cuts me off. “You're  _bleeding_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry! I'm SORRY!
> 
> It had to happen at some point.
> 
> I'm _SORRY_
> 
> So I write in the bathtub, right? Totally normal thing to do. And I'm writing this scene & all the sudden this just _happens._ And I'm shook. I have shooketh myself. Then I take literal days to decide whether I want to include this in this story because, you know, it's been pretty happy thus far, right? And _then_ , once I finally decided to go this route, I had an idea for the resolution that I'm pretty happy with. So. We're gonna go this way, & I hope y'all still like it, ya know? Thanks for bearing with me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI there's some blood this chapter. Not too bad, I don't think, but just so you know.
> 
> Also! This is the only chapter that will include blood (not including Baz's normal pig's blood stash). Just another FYI ya know

**BAZ**

 

I’ve bitten a person.

I’ve bitten _Simon._

And I _want_ it.

I’m a monster.

 

**SIMON**

 

Baz clambers off me and looks at me with wide eyes, his hands still clamped over his mouth.

I sit up and hold up a hand to try and steady him. “Baz,” I say. “Hey.  _Baz_.”

He's starting to hyperventilate and I realize he's going to have a panic attack. I don't know that he's ever had one, but I've had enough to know what they look like.

Something -  _my blood_ \- is starting to trickle down my chin.

My lip's started to sting at some point. I reach up and touch it, then stare at the blood on my fingers. I must've sliced my lip on one of his fangs.

“Baz, love-,” I say. “Hey, look at me-,”

“No,” he says. “No,  _no no n-_ ,”

“ _Baz_!” I reach out and grab his arms so I can yank them away from his face. I just want to hold onto his hands. “Hey,” I say. “Look at me.  _Look at me. Breathe_ , love. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Probably I should get my lip cleaned up, but I can't leave him here like this. I  _can't_. I have to hold onto him.

I hold his hands so tight I can feel his heart racing in his fingers.

“ _Breathe_ ,” I say. “Can you do that for me?”

His Adam's apple bobs once, twice, then he takes a deep, shaky breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth. His hands are trembling in mine.

“That's it, just like that,” I say. “Keep going.”

He's staring at my mouth (not in a good way). His nostrils twitch when he breathes. Probably he can smell my blood.

“Hey,” I say. “It's alright. I'm alright, see? It's just a cut.” I can feel a bit of blood pooling at my collarbone. I grip his hands tighter. “You remember that research we talked about, yeah? They must be onto something. I'm  _fine._ It's a cut, that's all.”

He gives me a shaky nod. He looks like he wants to say something.

“No, keep breathing,” I say. Then, “I'm so sorry, love. I shouldn't have...Um.” Well, it's done. I can't make this worse than it already is. “I knew your fangs were out, and they were turning me on... _you_ were turning me on. And I wanted to kiss you. I didn't mean for…”

His eyes are huge as he looks at me. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth.

“It's my own fault I got cut, yeah? But it's alright. No harm done.”

“You-,”

“Keep breathing, yeah?” I squeeze his hands. They aren't so shaky anymore. I think the breathing's helping. “I shouldn't have just...done that. I should've talked to you about it first.”

His eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth, down my neck and my chest.

“Alright?” I ask.

He shakes his head. I wonder if my blood's bothering him.

“Baz,” I say. “If you want me to go get cleaned up, I will. But.” I don't know if I should say the next bit, but we've come this far, so. “But if you want it, you can take it.”

He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. His eyes are huge.

“I mean it,” I say. “I want you to have it. If you want it.” And I do. He needs to know that.

“I'm afraid,” he whispers. I don't think he wants to admit it.

“Of what, love?”

“Of.” He closes his eyes. His breath's shaky when he sighs. “Fuck, are you _daft_? If I taste your blood, I'll never be able to stop. I'll _always_ want it. I don't know if I can live like that. Live with myself.”

“Okay,” I say, squeezing his hands again. “I'll be right back. I'll get it cleaned up.”

But when I stand, he grabs my arm. “Wait,” he says, and it's so quiet I can barely hear him. I sit next to him on the edge of the bed. He says, “Do you feel….You’re  _sure_ you feel alright?”

I remember what he told me about the day he was Turned, the  _pain. “_ Yeah,” I say, because I  _do_ feel fine. Better than fine.

“Where's your cross?” he says.

I still have it somewhere, tucked away. Somewhere Baz won’t come across it. I thought about getting rid of it, but I couldn’t, not when I remembered that I was wearing it the first time we kissed. Then the second. (I’m honestly a bit of a sap, I think.)

“No,” I say. “No, I’m not putting it on. It’s not…” How do I explain this? “I’m not trying to push you. I’m not trying to make you do something you don’t want to do. But we do it without the cross or not at all. That thing was…” How do I say  _this_ bit without hurting him? I don’t know if I can. “It was meant to keep you away,” I say. “And I don’t  _want_ to keep you away anymore. I don't think I ever really did. I want  _you_. And. Well, I told you I want to be close to you, didn’t I? I’m not  _afraid_ of you.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” he says, and I can see the stubborn tears in his eyes, not falling.

I tuck some hair behind his ear and lift his chin. “You.” I try to think of the best way to say this. “You don't have to hide. Not with me. I trust you,” I say. “And I love you.  _You won’t hurt me._ ”

He closes his eyes and the tears fall, then. He lets out a shaky breath but moves closer to me, as close as he can get.  _He’s going to -_

His fingers reach towards my face and stroke along my bottom lip. I can feel my blood smearing under his thumb.

Then he kisses me, so carefully, on my bloody mouth.

 

**BAZ**

 

This is a stupid fucking idea, but I won't hurt him.

I  _can't_.

It's a normal sort of kiss, really, but it tastes different. It tastes  _good_. So good.

I wonder, out of everything we've done together, if  _this_ is the most intimate.

It's the same as feeding and completely different at the same time.

It's...

It's Simon giving me another piece of him that no one else can have.

_You don't have to hide..._

I think,  _This is wrong, so wrong_. But my body says it's right.

I pull his bloodied lip into my mouth, gently, until all I taste is  _Simon_. Then I let go, tilt my head the other way, and kiss him again. Just kiss him.

He lets me lead.

I think,  _Simon's alright. He's still_ Simon. And...I think he  _likes_ this.

_And I…_

I don't know what I'm feeling.

I don't know what I'm  _thinking._

I pull back (one cut lip is enough for one night) and let the taste of his blood fade away. He's looking at me, eyes hooded, his mouth clean.

I don’t want to hurt him, but I want to bite him.

That’s the scariest thing of all.

There’s still a thin trail of blood from his chin down to his chest.

“Go on,” he says. “It’s alright. I want you to.”

He  _wants_ me to.

I've never been able to deny him anything, not really.

And I  _want_ it. Fuck, I want it.

“It's alright,” Simon says again.

I take hold of his ribs and move so I can dip my head down to his chest. He threads my hair through his fingers and presses gently at the back of my head.

_He_ wants  _me to._

Some of the blood from his lip’s run down around his nipple, so I take it into my mouth first. Simon sighs above me and pushes my hair away from my forehead. The taste of him...it’s enough to make me dizzy.

Fuck, I shouldn't. I  _shouldn't._

I think,  _I'd cross every line for him._ He  _wants_ it.

_This_ line, though…

I don't think we can uncross it now it's done.

I think...I think I could get hard again already if I weren't so fucking scared right now.

I've licked up to his collarbone before I’ve even truly registered what I've done. There's a little pool of blood at the base of his neck and his heart's hammering so fast I can  _feel_ it.

I've kissed him there before, that part isn't new. But now I can smell the tang of his blood. He smells  _so good._

I hold his neck gently with my hand, right at his pulse point.

I won't bite. I won't hurt him.

I kiss him, open-mouthed, at the base of his neck and taste his blood sweet on my tongue. I don't trust myself to nip at the skin there, so I just suck gently until it's clean. The beat of his heart rattles against my lips. He’s still running his hand through my hair.

When I kiss up the line of blood on his neck, Simon starts moaning, so softly. I don't think he's ever been so quiet.

It takes me a few moments to realize he's not the one moaning.

Fuck, I'm disturbed.

When I’ve finished, it's not as hard to pull away as I anticipated.

Simon's looking at me, mouth hanging open, his face flushed. A bit more blood's welled up at his lip so I kiss him one last time, just long enough to suck it away.

When I look at him, all I really see is the trail of smeared blood on his skin. What I've done.

_What I've done._

 

**SIMON**

 

I want Baz to kiss me again.

I want him to do it  _all_ again.

And I don't know how he's feeling. He's looking down at his hands in his lap. A few of his fingers are stained with my blood.

I take his face in my hands. “Baz,  _look at me_. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re not. You’re  _not_ a monster. You're a  _person,_ yeah? A person who likes the taste of blood. Fuck,  _I_ like blood. I love a good black pudding, yeah?” He doesn't even scoff. (He's not ready for jokes yet.) I run my thumb along the line of his jaw. “There's nothing  _wrong_ with you. And. You deserve everything. _Everything. Look at me, Baz._ ” He does. “I love you. So much. Fangs and all, okay? Don't you dare doubt that for a second.”

A single tear falls from one of his eyes and pools between my fingers and his cheek. Fuck, I hate it when he cries. That's when I notice I'm crying too. I'm not sure when I started.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what else to say.

I just want him to stop  _thinking._

“I want to kiss you again,” I say. “Is that alright?”

He wraps his fingers around my wrist. Then he nods, once.

I smile at him. My tears are running salty into my mouth, stinging in my cut. “Okay,” I say, my voice trembling, and I press my lips up against his.

It's just a gentle coming together, at first. His tears are salty in my mouth, too. I feel him hesitate when I try to part his lips with my tongue, so I wait a few moments to try again. I cradle the back of his head in my hands and hope it makes him feel safe.

He opens his mouth for me the second time I try. The only thing I hear is the sound of our lips coming together, our breathing. (Baz's breath’s still a bit shaky.)

He runs his tongue along the cut in my lip and I shiver. I want him to do it again.

He  _does._

And then he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.

“I love you,” I say into the air between us.

He doesn’t say it back. He’s quiet, then he whispers, “How are you _real_ , Simon Snow?”

“Just. Just tell me you love me.”

“I do,” he says. “I do.”

We're quiet until I don't feel any more tears falling down his cheeks.

“I don't want to leave you,” I say. “But I need to get cleaned up.” I've still got the condom on, and Baz's come’s running down my belly and between my legs. My lip might still be bleeding too, I don’t know. “I'll just be a minute.”

“Wait,” he says, and reaches for his wand. I'm not too keen on him doing magic right now, but I don't want him to think I'm scared of him, either, so I stay put.

He points at my lip, first. “ _ **Get well soon**_ ,” he says. Then to the rest, “ _ **Into thin air**_.”

“Um,” I say. “Where've you sent the condom?”

He shrugs and sets his wand back down. Well. I hope my come's doing well, wherever it's gone.

Baz strokes my lip. “It's left a scar,” he says. “I don't know if it'll fade.”

“It's alright,” I say. “Really. I probably look cool, now.”

He sighs. “You look like you with a scar on your lip.” Is that a hint of my Baz?

“Hey,” I say.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says. He still looks far away from here. His eyes are red and swollen and I just wish I could make him feel better.

That's when I have the idea.

“D'you think you're okay to drive?”

He manages to furrow his brow and raise it at the same time. “Drive? It's the middle of the night.”

“Nah, it's not that late.” It’s around 11, maybe. “Come on, let's go for a drive, and when we get out into the middle of bloody nowhere I want you to do what I did the other night. You're going to stand up in the wind, and I'm going to drive, and you're going to let go of all the shit that's trapped in your head right now - because I  _know_ you're still thinking. And  _then,_ when you've done that, we're going to fuck under the stars, yeah?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “You don't know  _how_ to drive.”

I shrug. “How hard can it be? Teach me. No one will be on the road.”

“Are you _mad_ , Snow?”

“Maybe.” I stand up. “Come on. Come  _on_. It'll help, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes again but then he stands and I know I've won.

“Brilliant,” I say. “Let's see, let's get you dressed.” I bring him a maroon jumper that's a bit loose on me. “Put that on; it'll be a bit nippy up there. Should we bring my blanket?”

“For?” he says as he pulls on my jumper.

“For the bit where we fuck under the stars. I don't fancy any bugs crawling up my arse, do you?”

“You. You  _actually_ want to have sex with me after what just happened?”

“Um, yeah? You're my boyfriend, and I love you, and you're well fuckable as always, so. Yeah. I do. Don't you?”

He sighs as he pulls on his trackies (my trackies). He doesn't bother with pants. A good sign, maybe.

I find my clothes and start getting dressed, too. I say, “I want you to just...let it go. Let loose. Earlier, when you just let go for me...you were gorgeous. I  _like_ seeing you like that. And look, if you don't want to we won't, but-,”

“We'll fuck under the stars, Snow,” he says.

I walk up to him and put my arms around him. “No,” I say. “We'll _make looove_ under the stars.” I'm still trying to get a laugh out of him. Or a smile. An insult, at least. It doesn’t work. “Don't be sad, love,” I whisper against his ear.

His breath’s  _warm_ against my neck. “I think it's from the anxiety. I just feel...”

“Drained?” I say.

“Yeah. Funny, that.” Was that a vampire joke? I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to laugh, so I just tighten my arms around him.

“Best bring our lube, yeah?” I say, then, “Um. D’you…” His shoulder tenses beneath my chin. Fucking hell, I suck at this. “Look, it’s completely up to you, love, but if the only reason you want me to use a condom’s because you don’t want to Turn me...well, I don’t think we need it. Just. Vampires who make vampires...I think they must have to want it. And you...you  _don’t_ , Baz. You don’t want to hurt me. I know that. I know  _you_.”

I don’t want to push him, but I want him to be  _reasonable._ I want him to see that he’s not a monster. That he’s not a bloody  _danger_ to me. That he shouldn’t let his life be dictated by what an  _actual_ monster did to him.

_Monsters don’t make love_ , I think.  _They destroy it._

“I love you,” I say into his ear. I don’t know that I’ve said it enough tonight. “And I trust you.”

We stand there holding onto each other until I don’t think he’s going to say anything at all.

Then there’s a whisper in my ear.

He says, “Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, y'all...
> 
> This was _hard_ to write.
> 
> I spent the last few days wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake by going this route, honestly. It came out so much better in my head than it could in words, lol. 
> 
> Anyway. I don't want to hurt Baz. He's a treasure; we all _*know*_ that. But I think this whole situation will serve him in terms of really accepting who he is in terms of his vampirism. And unless I'm completely off the mark, I think accepting that part of him is something he still needs to work on. So.
> 
> I think we've got about 3 chapters to go! Two are partially written, one is completely ready to go (sadly not the very next one; I might be able to get that one up tomorrow or Monday.) 
> 
> Also I had to ask my husband how much a cut lip bleeds. He was bitten in the lip by a dog once. He says it went _everywhere_. (Simon's cut wasn't so deep, *but* there's a lot of blood supply to the lips, hence the drippage.)
> 
> Also [here's a song](https://youtu.be/-bx_vG94LSo) I've been listening to that totally makes me think of the way *Simon* sees Baz (the music video's a little weird, but I also kind of liked it? Anyway.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm Ashley & this is my redemption.
> 
> (This is the second chapter I've posted today so make sure you read 17 first if you haven't already!)

**BAZ**

 

What a shit way to end a bloody perfect week.

I can hear it now, the conversation when I get back to Fiona's tomorrow.

_“How was your week, Basil?”_

_“Oh, tip-top, thank you. I fucked my boyfriend then lapped up his blood from his naked body.”_

Crowley. I wonder if she'd let me have a trial and have my fangs pulled out of my skull or if she'd just finish me right there in her flat.

To be honest I'm not sure which would be more of a mercy.

I'm  _trying_ not to think this way, I am.

I'm replaying the things Simon said to me, over and over in my head (in between bouts of self-loathing).

_He loves me._

I love  _him_ so much it hurts.

“Baz?” Simon says from the passenger seat. We're maybe 20 minutes out of London, if that.

“Hm?”

“I know we still have a lot to practice, but. Well, that was the best sex I think we've had, wasn't it? I mean, it's all been good. Incredible, really. But that...it was  _good._ ”

He's just so...  _nonchalant_ about this whole thing. And I  _know_ I didn't actually bite him. I know  _he's_ the imbecile who wanted to kiss while my fangs were popped.

I can't believe I didn't know. About my fangs, I mean. Simon told me it happened the first time, too. Last night.

I had no idea.

Simon says, “I, um. I like it that way. You on top. In control. It's...Well, do  _you_ like that? Like, let's just forget the whole cut lip bit for a second. Was that not the best sex we've had?”

_Did I like it like that?_ Crowley, what a question. I bloody  _loved_ it.

And how the fuck am I supposed to  _forget_ about his cut lip? I know he means well, but he's such a moron.

“Simon…”

“It’s alright if you didn't,” he says. “But you seemed really into it. So.”

I sigh. “Yeah,” I say, because otherwise he'll just keep stumbling over his words. “Yeah, I liked that best.”

“Can I. Can I ask you a question?”

Crowley's sake.

“Go on.”

“Just. There's no wrong answer, okay?”

“...Okay.”

“D'you. Um. Do you want to bite me? Like. When we're in bed?”

Does he actually think now’s a good fucking time to ask me this? I don't answer him.

He keeps on anyway. “Because. I keep thinking about it, like. I think I want you to. And I just wanted you to know. We don't  _have_ to. But... you should know.”

I think,  _I do want to bite him._

I think,  _I’m disturbed._

I think,  _But Simon wants it, too._

I say, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Simon says. “Maybe…what?”

He’s going to make me say it, the actual bastard.

“I mean  _yes_. There are times I do. Want to. And maybe...” Crowley, since when do  _I_ stumble? “ _Maybe_ we can, sometime. Not yet.”

I'm still trying to convince myself I'm not a monster for drinking his blood. He  _wanted_ me to. And I did. Because I’m  _weak._

“Oh,” he says, and he reaches over to take my hand. “Well, that’s. Yeah.” He strokes my knuckles with his thumb. “You don’t think I’m…weird? For wanting that?”

“No, Snow, I think you’re a madman,” I say.

“Well, maybe I am.”

“You  _are_ ,” I say. “But. If it’s something you want…and it’s something I want, then.” Then bloody  _what_? “Then I’m willing to think it over. But I need time, alright?” Copious fucking amounts of it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to keep that a secret anymore. I’ve said what I needed. And you don’t think I’m weird. Just mad. So that's alright, then.”  

“You do realize that this might just be a fantasy, right? It would  _hurt._ Maybe it's just the idea of it you like.” I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t like the idea of it, too.  _But._

“Hm.” His thumb’s still running over my knuckles. “Maybe. But I don't think so.”

“Well.  _I_ think that you should think on it more yourself. I know thinking isn’t your greatest strength-,”

“Arsehole,” he says, but he's smiling when I sneak a glance at him.

 

**SIMON**

 

Maybe it was stupid of me, to ask about the biting. But at least it's out, now.

I wonder what he's thinking. We've been quiet for a bit. I've just been stroking the back of his hand as he drives.

“Baz?” I say.

“Yes.”

“You're not. I mean...are you still thinking about it? What happened?”

“Yes.” He doesn't elaborate.

“Well. Maybe it'd help to talk about it.”

“Simon-,”

“ _Baz_.”

“Vampires killed my mother.”

“Yeah,” I say. “ _Bad_ ones. There's all kinds of people, Baz. Being a vampire doesn't inherently make you a bad person.”

He looks up at the roof of the car, but only for a moment. “What I am...it's a reminder of that.”

“Just because you got dealt one shit hand doesn't mean it gets to rule your life.”

“If you were going for a metaphor, you've failed miserably.”

“Whatever. You know what I mean. I know you liked what we did.  _I_ liked it. Don't have to do it again if you don't want to, but like...you don't have to be ashamed for liking it. I'm not.”

Baz just sighs.

“Like. I understand where you're coming from. I do. But you have to move past it, right? That's what I've been doing the last nine months. It's not easy, but what's life if you're constantly hacked off about something you can't control?”

“I can control whether I  _act_ on it.”

“But I'm saying you don't  _have_ to. Not with me. It's not like you're going around killing people. It's something we do  _together_. People do kinky shit in bed all the time. How's this any different?”

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

“Yeah, it's  _not_ ,” I say. “If it gets us both off, what's the problem?”

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

“I'm here to help you,” I say. “We help each other out, yeah? Give and take, all that.”

“Right,” he says. “All that.”

I say, “I'm not going anywhere.”

He glances at me. He says, “Good.”

 

**BAZ**

 

Once we’re out in the countryside, I pull off to the side of the road so we can switch seats, because I'm a love-drunk imbecile who can't say  _no_ to Simon bloody Snow.

I say, “Do you know anything about driving?”

“Um.”

Aleister fucking Crowley.

“Alright, then,” I say. “You’ve two pedals - the gas and the brake-,”

“Christ, I know  _that_ ,” he says.

“ _You’ve two pedals_ ,” I say again. “The bigger one’s the brake. If I actually go through with this-,”

“ _When_ you go through with it-,”

“ _If_ I actually go through with this, do  _not_ hit the brakes while I’m up there. You’d send me flying.”

“Right,” he says.

We go through all the basics until I’m comfortable enough for him to put the car in drive. I keep my wand at the ready just in case.

The car moves slowly, at first.

“ _Snow_ ,” I say after the first few minutes. “Why are you looking in the rearview mirror?”

“I’m making sure I’m in the lines!”

“You keep your eyes on the road  _in front of you_!”

“How do I stay in the bloody lines then?”

“You…” I think back to my father and Fiona teaching me to drive. “Keep your eyes on the road. Try to keep the line in the bottom corner of the windscreen.”

“ _What_?”

“The line in the center of the road, Snow. It should line up with the bottom corner of the windscreen. That’s a good guide for staying in the lane.”

It’s a good thing barely anyone’s on the road tonight, because we’re moving at a snail’s pace. Simon’s getting the hang of keeping the car in the correct lane, though.

“Alright, let’s try stopping,” I say, and then I’ve lurched forward. “Yeah, that’s the right pedal, Snow. Just tap it  _gently._ ”

We practice braking for a while, and speeding up. He’s a decent driver after the initial learning curves, honestly, and I’ve my wand if something goes horribly wrong.

“So,” he says after a time. He’s driving at the limit, now. “You ready?”

I sigh. I’m made of sighs tonight. “ _Simon_.”

“We came all the way out here, didn’t we?”

“Yes, and now you’re a mediocre driver. Mission accomplished.”

“Oh, come  _on,_ Baz-,”

“This is. Simon, this is  _ridiculous._ ”

I can tell he wants to look at me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He just grips the steering wheel harder. “Just  _try,_ Baz. We didn't get the childhoods we should have, you know? Be a kid. Have  _fun._ ”

Crowley, I’m  _weak._

“ _Fine._ Fine.”

When he smiles he’s like the fucking sun. “Let's find you a song, then. D'you want that David whatsit song? The one from that movie?”

“That one's yours,” I say as I start scrolling through songs on my mobile.

“I'll share it with you.”

_Why_ does he make me feel this way? How is it that he can say something so bloody simple and have me practically falling to pieces at his feet?

“That's. It's a nice gesture, Simon, but I should have my own, shouldn't I? If I'm going to do it properly.” I think,  _If I’m going to do something stupid, I might as well give it my all._

“Yeah, alright. Oh, how about this one? This one's perfect. It played the other night, I think.” The sound of a guitar fills the car as he cranks the volume as high as it'll go.

 

_Hope when you take that jump_

_You don't fear the fall_

_Hope when the water rises_

_You built a wall_

 

“It’s perfect, Baz!” Simon yells. “Come on!”

Crowley.

I press the button to open the sunroof myself so he doesn’t take a hand off the wheel. “Do  _not_ take your eyes off the road,” I yell back. “And don’t hit the brakes while I’m up there, for the love of Crowley. I’ll take my wand with me.”

 

_Hope if everybody runs_

_You choose to stay_

 

He keeps his eyes on the road but he smiles so big I wish he were looking at me.

 

_Hope that you fall in love_

_And it hurts so bad_

 

I think,  _This is so fucking ridiculous_ , but I pull myself up through the sunroof as the drums begin to beat. I pull myself up until I'm sat on the roof of my car and as the wind whips through my hair I think,  _I_ don't  _have a death wish._

There's only the road in front of me, the moon and stars above me.

It  _is_ cold up here.

 

_And I hope that you don't suffer_

_But take the pain_

_Hope when the moment comes,_

_You'll say_

_I, I did it all_

_I, I did it all_

_I owned every second that this world could give_

_I saw so many places, the things that I did_

_Yeah with every broken bone_

_I swear I lived_

 

Simon yells. I can barely hear him over the music pouring from my car.

“What!” I yell back.

“ _I said don't forget your arms_!”

Crowley's sake.

I'm gripping the edge of my sunroof so hard my knuckles would be white if I weren't already dead.

I close my eyes, just for a moment.

 

_Hope that you spend your days_

_But they all add up_

 

As the drums begin to beat again, I think,  _Okay._ Okay.

I lift my wand hand first and hold tight to the hilt.

  _You're a mage._

 My other hand hovers just above the roof.

 

_And when that sun goes down_

_Hope you raise your cup_

 

Even as I’m raising my arms, I’m thinking this is a stupid fucking idea. I never thought crossing every bloody line for Simon bloody Snow would involve  _this_ shit.

 

_I wish that I could witness_

_All your joy and all your pain_

_But until my moment comes_

_I'll say_

 

_I, I did it all_

_I, I did it all_

_I owned every second that this world could give_

_I saw so many places, the things that I did_

_Yeah with every broken bone_

_I swear I lived_

 

Is this what flying feels like? The wind's whipping cold through the arms of my jumper. (Simon's jumper.) I feel…

I tilt my head towards the sky. Simon’s  _whooping_ down below me, and I…

I'm  _laughing._

I remember the promise I made to my mother, to  _myself_ , to carry on as I am.

I remember the boy with the tawny skin and bronze curls I thought I fell in love with all those years ago. Then I think of the boy - the _man_ \- sitting in the car beneath me, pushing me to carry on, and I realize that  _this_ is love. That what I felt before can't hold a candle to _this._

 

_With every broken bone_

_I swear I lived_

_With every broken bone_

_I swear I_

_I, I did it all_

_I, I did it all_

_I owned every second that this world could give_

_I saw so many places, the things that I did_

_Yeah with every broken bone_

 

I love Simon Snow.

And Simon Snow loves me.

 

_I swear I lived._

 

And I'm not a monster.

 

_I swear I lived_

 

And maybe,  _well._

Maybe we aren’t the tragedies I thought we were.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I Lived by OneRepublic](https://youtu.be/jAgS8tWYvgw)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I_ literally watched the rearview mirror to make sure I was staying in the lines while I was learning to drive & then drove up over a curb because I too am a splendid moron.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - part 6

**BAZ**

 

We kneel together on Simon's blanket in the middle of a field.

The car's parked at the side of the road, probably a mile away. I cast  **There's nothing to see here** on it just in case some imbecile happened to pass by and got curious.

It's silent out here and the air smells of the sea. My bare feet are cold from the autumn chill.

Simon shifts in front of me until he’s sat cross-legged and holding his hands out in front of him. Holding them out for me. I take them and move to sit cross-legged, too.

“D’you remember,” he says. “That night. In our room?”

_Do I remember?_ What a question.

“Simon,” I say. “I remember  _everything_ I’ve ever done with you. Everything I’ve ever  _thought_ about you.”

He whispers, “Look up.”

Without all the city lights, the stars above us are clear and crisp and  _bright._ So bright, and so beautiful. I say, “ _Twinkle, twinkle_ ,” without any magic.

“Yeah,” he says. “They’re beautiful.” When I look at him, he’s looking at me. He says, “ _You’re_ beautiful. And, well. I’m glad you let me in, that day. And all the times after.”

I think I could cry, if I put my mind to it. It hurts, sometimes, to be in love with Simon Snow. I squeeze his hands. They’re so  _warm._

“Can I kiss you?” he says.

There’s a fluttering in my chest. Crowley, I’m such a cliché. “You  _may_ ,” I say, and he smiles before he presses a hand into the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine. I fall back against his blanket (I spelled it to be plusher so whoever's on the bottom doesn't have rocks digging into his back) and bring him down with me.  

He stays draped over me from the side for a while, his hands not wandering anywhere lower than my shoulders. He strokes my jaw with his thumbs, runs his fingers through my hair, kisses me at my collarbone. His tail coils around one of my ankles. I wonder if he can control it.

I try parting my legs to see if he'll get the hint that it's okay to move himself between them. He doesn't; he just keeps kissing me.

I press my hand into one of his sides and my thigh into the other. He pulls back from my mouth.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I don’t wanna ruin the mood or anything. But I want to make sure you’re alright. You know.”

I’m a little nervous, honestly, but it isn’t enough to stop me. “I’m alright,” I say. “Just don’t cut your lip if my fangs pop.”

He huffs a laugh against my mouth. “You’re a mage. Could fix it right up.”

I pull his mouth back down to mine to shut him up.

When he finally runs his hand down my belly, a trail of fire follows in the wake of his fingers. His thumb strokes the bit of exposed skin at my hip.

I try to nod at him so he knows it's alright, but I just end up doing that thing with my chin like he always does with his.

He seems to understand because he palms me gently through my trackies (his trackies) and moans into my mouth.

I manage to pull him over until his body's slotted between my legs. He's hard against me when he presses down with his hips.

He runs his hand through my hair again and pulls back. The stars are so bright behind him.

“Baz?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing him say that.

I say, “I love you too, Simon Snow.”

My eyes slip closed as he starts in on that spot on my neck. In my ear, he whispers, “How d’you want it?”

I'm a bit sore, from earlier. But it isn't so bad as it was this morning. Crowley, that seems a lifetime ago.

I say, “You on top. Inside me.” After everything that’s happened, I have to admit he’s right about not needing a condom. And I’d be nervous about it whenever we decided to do it, now or later. And I want to  _feel_ him.

“Oh?” He pulls back to look at me. “Yeah, okay. We don’t have a pillow, though.”

“That’s alright. We’ll manage.”  

He smiles that crooked grin. “Alright,” he says, and he sits up to pull off his t-shirt. (I spelled his wings in before we left the flat.) He slips his fingers underneath the hem of my jumper (his jumper) and says, “Can I?”

I say, “You  _may_.”

He smiles wider and rolls his eyes. “Up you get, then,” he says, and I lift myself enough for him to pull my jumper up and over my head. He sets it next to us then runs his thumbs over my hip bones and glances up at me. I nod, once, and lift my hips so he can pull down my trousers.

“You’re lovely,” he says, his eyes soft.

I think,  _Simon Snow thinks I’m lovely._

I think,  _I’m naked in the middle of a field with Simon Snow._ (At first I didn’t think I’d be too fond of this idea, but it’s actually quite nice out here, and his body will keep me warm, and if anyone comes across us, well. I  _am_ a mage.)

“Take off your trousers, love,” I say. “And get back on top of me. I’m cold.”

When he comes back between my legs, he rests his weight against me and kisses me again, so softly, his hands in my hair. His cock nestles against mine and I wonder, just for a moment, how I got so lucky as this.

All we do for a while is kiss and rock against each other. I think,  _I don’t need any more than this, not really._ Having Simon in my life the way he is,  _loving_ him - that’s intimate enough. All the rest - the kissing, the love-making - it’s the delicious icing on top of an already-rich cake.

Simon moves to kiss my neck again and I tilt my head to give him better access. He holds the side of my face in one hand and trails the other down my belly. He barely touches my cock, just runs his fingers lightly over it a few times before I feel his breath in my ear. “You ready?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say, and as he reaches over to grab the lube I bring my knees up to rest against my chest. It’s vulnerable, this way, but if there’s one thing I’ve found I can be with Simon Snow, it’s that.  _Vulnerable._

“Wait,” he says. “Can you put your legs down? The way we normally do it.”

“...Okay,” I say as I plant my feet.

“I wanna try something,” he says.

 

**SIMON**

 

Baz looks confused. He says, “Oh?”

I just smile at him as I lube up my fingers. If there's anything I want tonight, it's to make Baz feel  _good._

“Just relax, yeah?” I prop myself on one elbow next to him and he turns his head to look at me. Moonlight's a good look for him. (Then again, so is everything, so.)

I move as close to him as I can and kiss him as I move my hand between his legs. He sighs into my mouth as I slip my first finger inside him. I just have to make sure I can reach from up here…

An “mmph” vibrates through my mouth and I know I've brushed his prostate.  _Good,_ because I want to stay right here kissing him while I do this.

I press myself against his side, partly to keep him warm, partly to make him feel loved. He really needs that today, I think.

My next finger slides into him easily too and I feel him run his tongue over the new scar on my lip. I wonder if he did that on purpose, if maybe he’s feeling better about it. Either way, I shiver.

I press my fingers gently back and forth over that spot inside him as Baz’s hips start to move against my hand.

I pull back to look at him; I can't help myself. The way he's looking at me…

He's beautiful.

 

**BAZ**

 

_Oh._

I know what he's doing.

Simon's fingers rub against my prostate, over and over and over again as I rock my hips. I feel close already.

He moves his free arm to wrap underneath my shoulders and pull me closer. When I moan into his mouth, he growls back at me.

_Simon Snow._

I like him fingering me like this, pressed against my side, kissing me. I still bring one of my knees to my chest, the one furthest from him, so he doesn't have to stretch so far. And when I do,  _well_.

I kiss him fiercely as my orgasm spreads heat from my core all the way to my fingers and toes. He pushes back, licking into my mouth, his hand still moving between my legs. I can't stop myself whimpering. He just holds me tighter, kisses me harder.

Crowley, I've just had my first prostate orgasm.

Simon slips his fingers out of me when my hips finally still. He kisses me one more time then pulls back, grinning.

“ _Where_ ,” I pant. “Where did you learn  _that_?”

He grins wider. “Google.”

“Sweet Morgana,” I say. I'm still having aftershock.

“D'you need a minute?”

“Might do.” I'm still hard (I haven't ejaculated yet), but if we have sex  _now_ I might explode.

Simon moves his arm from under me then goes to grab the lube again before he crawls on top of me and kisses me, soft and slow and  _warm._

He says, “Did you like that?”

“Oh, yes,” I say.

“Good. Me too.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I like to make you feel good.”

“Well,” I say. “How can I make _you_ feel good?”

“This,” he says, and he dips his head to kiss me again. His hands cup my face, holding me steady as his chin moves up and down, as his warm tongue slides against mine. I wonder - not for the first time - how he's such an expert kisser.

When he pulls away to kiss my jaw, I whisper, “I want you.”

“Yeah,” he says in my ear.

“Wait,” I say as he reaches for the lube. “Let me.”

His eyes are soft, and so is his smile.

My hands shake as I pour the lube, but only a little. I set it aside and press my clean hand into the small of his back to bring him closer. He groans when I start to stroke him with the other.

I think, _Simon Snow is going to be inside me. And he'll be safe. And so will I._

I let out a shaky sigh as I let go of him and bring my hand up to rest on his shoulder. He shifts above me, his hands pressing into the blanket on either side of my shoulders as I bring my knees to my chest again. My heels rest against the small of his back, his knees bracketing my arse.

“Alright?” he says. His voice wavers, just a little.

“Yeah,” I say, and I sigh when he reaches between us to rub the head of his cock against me.

“ _Mm_...alright?” he says again.

“Yes, Simon,” I say. It’s sweet, how slow he’s going for me, but I’m ready.

He smiles at me, softly, and says, “Okay,” as he dips his head to kiss me.

When he starts to push into me, I see stars. (Literally; they’re shining up above us.) Simon’s breath comes fast and warm against my neck.

“ _Baz_ ,” he says. “This is _…_ ”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

He tells me he loves me again and again and again until I feel his hips pressed warm against me. He rocks his body forward and our lips meet, gently.

His skin’s the finest silk inside me. It feels... _right._

It’s like we’re...

 

**SIMON**

 

_One person_.

Being inside Baz like this - bare - it’s...something else.

It feels... _right._

I haven’t started to move, not yet. I feel like I could stay here like this - on top of him, inside him, kissing him -  _Baz_ all around me, forever.

We could be stars, him and me.

I don’t know how I got this lucky.

I hold his face in my hands and kiss him, long and slow and deep. He holds my face, too, his fingers gentle on my cheeks.

When I start to move, he makes the loveliest little sound. I love that I can make him make noises like that.

He tilts his head and then his tongue’s in my mouth, moving against mine. My hips move slowly as he sighs. There’s no need to rush, not tonight.

He pulls away and kisses the mole on my neck, then another at my collarbone. I press my lips to his cheek, his jaw, the spot under his ear.

“I love you, Baz,” I say.  _“_ You're human. And mine. And  _good_.” He gasps in my ear as I roll my hips.

His hands press into my arse enough to hold my hips steady as he starts to put his legs back down. We kiss as he runs his hands up my back and I keep still (I think that’s what he wants).

I love the sound our mouths make together.

Then Baz wraps an arm tight around my waist and starts to roll us over. (I’m not sure how he manages to keep me inside him, but he does.) He’s knelt on top of me, his hands resting on my chest, his hair falling into his face. He’s silhouetted by the stars.  

When he leans down to kiss me, he seems almost shy.

I say, “They're not out yet, love,” and he presses his lips to mine.

It’s heaven when he starts to roll his hips. He doesn’t sit all the way up, not like earlier. Instead, he gathers the blanket up like a pillow beneath my head so my mouth’s easier for him to reach. His hands stroke up and down my chest as he kisses me. The feel of his hands - they’re rough and soft at the same time, somehow, a fire mage’s hands - against my nipples has me moaning into his mouth.

I push his hair back from his forehead with one hand and wrap the other around his cock so he has something to thrust into. He kisses me one last time before pulling back to look at me with grey eyes, his cock damp with precome as he starts to rock faster against me.

There’s a heat coiling deep in my belly.

“ _Baz_ ,” I say. My voice is a quiet tremble.

“Simon,” my name slurs in his mouth.

“You feel so  _good_ ,” I say. “Are you…” I’m breathing heavy; he is, too. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” he says. “And so are you.” It isn’t a question.

I’m looking at him, and he’s looking at me, and it’s too much. “I’m going to-,”

 

**BAZ**

 

Simon’s head tilts back and he growls as he pulses hot into me. The warmth of his come inside me and his hand around me is what does me in. He’s looking at me again when I come, too, and then he’s pulling my head down, pressing his lips to mine with a careful sort of ferocity.

We rock together until it’s too much to bear anymore, and then I collapse against him.

“I don’t…” he says, then, “Can we stay like this? Just for a while?”

“Yeah,” I breathe against his neck, because I want to keep him inside me as long as I can.

His arms are warm around my waist as he presses me to him. “I love you,” he says. “I know I keep saying so, but I do. It. It  _hurts_ , sometimes.”

“I know,” I say, my face still nestled in the curve of his shoulder. “I  _know._ I love you, Simon Snow.” I pull back to look at him. His eyes are brimming with tears. “And I  _choose_ you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

He smiles and pushes my hair back from my forehead before lifting his head and kissing me there. He turns us on our sides as he starts to slip out of me, then pulls me in as close as he can. I bury my face in his warm skin and listen to the beating of his heart, breathe the scent of him -  _home._

I’m home.

We're nineteen, and in love, and  _alive_.  _So_ alive.

_Simon Snow_ , I think.

I choose you.

 


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of this story, but a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -double update day; turn back if you haven't read chapter 19!-
> 
> First off, apologies for the delay on answering comments over on chapters 17 & 18\. This will sound stupid but I was actually so nervous about how 17 would go over that I just stared at the unopened emails from AO3 in my inbox for two days. I feel silly now, of course. Thank you all for your lovely comments & I'm sorry for not being more articulate in my responses. There are moments where I'm obviously reduced to talking in emojis because my words won't work. 
> 
> Secondly, here we are at the end! It's a bittersweet moment for me. Thank you all so much for coming along for the ride.

**SIMON**

 

My classes don't start for another few days, so I take the tube to LSE to meet Baz after his last class on Monday. (Luckily Penny was home to spell my dragon parts invisible. I really should talk to Dr Wellbelove about having them removed.) I think I'll take Baz to Starbucks and buy him one of those candy bar drinks he likes, even if Starbucks  _is_ overpriced.

I stop off at the bookshop along the way and pick up a copy of  _Les Misérables._ (Baz never did get around to reading much while he was staying at mine.) There's a bunch of different translations so I  _don't_  buy the least expensive one. I also pick up a copy in French.

I find Baz's classroom before it lets out and lean against the wall to wait. When it does let out, I can see Baz over the other students’ heads, talking to the professor with enthusiasm. That makes me smile. I'm just standing out here in the corridor grinning like an idiot.

“Snow,” he says when he spots me. He's not the last out of class, and I notice a few girls (and even a bloke or two) watching him with obvious interest as he walks towards me.  _Please kiss me,_ I think.  _Kiss me so they all know you're mine._

I'm not sure he will, but he does. It's not just a peck either. I'm well chuffed.

“First day went well, then?” I ask.

“Brilliantly,” he says. “What've you got there?” He gestures at my bookshop bag.

“Oh, I got these for you.” I pull the books out. “Um. So you don't have to read it on your mobile. You said you didn't like that. Only, well. There were so many options, I wasn't sure which to get.”

He kisses me again, in front of all these strangers in the corridor.

“You're an absolutely terrible boyfriend, Simon Snow,” he says. “Completely abysmal. An absolute tragedy.”

“Told you so, didn't I?” I return the books to the shopping bag and hand it to him. “Fancy a coffee? Then we could go to mine? Penny's got an evening class this term, every Monday.”

Baz raises an eyebrow. “Does she?”

“She does,” I say as we start down the corridor.

“Hm. I suppose I could come home with you,” he says. Then, “Hold my hand, Snow. Are you my terrible boyfriend or not?”

“Demanding, you are,” I say, but I take his hand. I hope his classmates can see, the ones who were fucking him with their eyes a minute ago. (I can't blame them, honestly. No uniform at uni means Baz in jeans.)

“Yes, well. Someone has to keep you in line,” he says.

“We'll see about that."

I’m thinking over what  _I_ want from Starbucks – maybe I’ll have a candy bar drink, too, and a scone – when Baz says, “I went in to the advisor's office this morning. To see what could be done about a course of study for teaching.”

I wasn't expecting that. “You did? I thought you'd never thought about teaching.”

“I hadn't,” he says. “Never thought I'd live long enough to consider a career, did I?”

That stings a little, but it's not like I don't understand exactly how that feels. “Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”

“Well, I've been thinking about it since you mentioned it the other day. I don't know for sure, but I don't have to decide just yet. Basic courses would still be the same for a while.”

We walk along in silence for a moment. It's a bit of a cloudy day when we get outside. That's better for Baz, at least. Still, we stop so he can pull his sunglasses out of his bag. Maybe a vampire's eyesight _can_ decline, if the sun bothers them.

I say, “You'd be a professor, wouldn't you? At university?” It's not  _really_ a question. Baz at university just _makes sense._

“Yes, that'd be the idea.”

“Hm. Professor Pitch. Rolls off the tongue a bit, doesn't it?”

“It does sound good in your mouth, I'll give you that. Anyway, it's a thought. It's.” He sighs. “Well, if I'm being honest, it's a bit overwhelming to have options.”

“Yeah,” I say. I know  _that_  feeling all too well. I squeeze his hand. “But we've got time.”

He looks at me, smiles, squeezes back. “Yeah,” he says. “We've got time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...
> 
> THANK YOU. Thank you all so much for reading, your comments, your kudos, all the things.
> 
> A few months ago I picked up a pen & wrote 300 words after not having written a lick of fiction in at least five years. Y'all don't know how much it means to me that people actually like what I've done. So thank you, thank you, thank you. 
> 
> That said, I'm happy to say this isn't the last you'll be hearing from me! I have at least three more fics planned for this timeline (I posted a little snippet of one [on my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) the other day while I was struggling with chapter 17 & needed happiness; come visit me there! - search #honeyedhufflepuff mini fic) including a wedding fic because I'm obviously out of my mind. Also I love these morons too much to just gloss over the wedding, ya mean?
> 
> If you're with me over on [The Fire in Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655692/chapters/41637320)...that one needs some love, so bear with me, lol. It kind of went on the back-burner when I started this one, which was never the intention because this fic was never supposed to be nearly 50k words. Who'd've thunk? Honestly I kind of wish I hadn't started posting it before I started this one, especially now that I've fleshed out some background stuff. Ah, well.
> 
> I made [a new playlist,](https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/4a5b48d4ae2540059eaaf3420b052c84sune?ref=dm_sh_vX6LExYNXAk48UlFtqQCJhRA6) too - it's all the songs I listened to while writing this story (songs mentioned in the story, songs that remind me of these idiots, etc.). (I'm a little hacked off - as Simon would say - because Amazon keeps glitching & I Lived disappears from the playlist & then I'm unable to add it again, & it's like...one of the main songs in the fic, but alas.) I especially enjoyed listening to violin covers...who knows why...
> 
> Anyway, my note's fixing to be as big as the chapter itself. So - THANK YOU again, & I hope to see you around! *insert purple hearts here since I'm on a computer & there's no emoji options*

**Author's Note:**

> Actual conversation with my husband when I started writing The Fire in Us:
> 
> Me: So I’m writing a story.  
> Him: …...Is it fanfiction?  
> Me: ...Yeah  
> Him: …  
> Me: ...Not that kind of fanfiction!  
> Him: This is how it starts.
> 
> He right, he right.  
> PS come [visit me on Tumblr if that's your thang](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff)
> 
> PPS I have a Snowbaz playlist for this fic! Find that [here.](https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/4a5b48d4ae2540059eaaf3420b052c84sune?ref=dm_sh_aR1qYYUyrIzuiKfLoNNl1IGd9)


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